


don't you want the way I feel

by megankelly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megankelly/pseuds/megankelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s senior year, and finally, things seem to be at rest in the supernatural world—except for Scott and Derek fighting again. Like always, Stiles and Erica are stuck being the peacemakers. Those roles are compromised, though, when Erica confronts Stiles about their feelings for each other. It turns out they might be the ones requiring mediation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Werewolf Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song "Don't You" by Darren Criss.

Stiles and Erica walked into the pack meeting together, which they did almost every pack meeting nowadays. They liked to get burgers beforehand and work on homework together. Stiles was the more academic one of the pair, though she helped edit his papers for English class when he went off-topic or wrote excited run-on sentences. She relished crossing out sections with her big red marker. He always told her she should be an editor, and she kept saying, “Maybe,” like she kept saying, “Maybe,” when he asked her if she filled out those college applications yet. 

They were laughing as they entered. Erica had been telling this really good story about her mom’s reaction when she went to grab something from Erica’s closet (Erica was still at the school at the time) and Derek, king of the creepers, had been just been sitting there on Erica’s bed reading a magazine. 

Their laughter was cut short at the sight of Jackson, Lydia, Boyd, and Isaac all talking rapidly with serious expression on their faces. Never a good sign. 

“What’s up, guys?” Stiles said, taking his usual place on the beanbag chair that he was pretty sure Derek had bought especially for him. 

“Scott didn’t tell you?” Boyd said. He gulped. “That’s a bad sign.”

“Huh?” Erica said. Then they heard the sound of Derek growling from the bedroom. “Oh great. They’re fighting, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” Lydia said. 

“This is why I keep saying I should be the Alpha,” Jackson huffed. 

“Ha! Not happening. Ever,” Erica said. 

“Hey, after Scott I was the next one to get turned,” Jackson said. 

“You’re counting that whole period where you were a murderous lizard?” Isaac said incredulously.

“Don’t talk about that.” Lydia reached for Jackson’s hand. It was a testament to how far Stiles had come that he didn’t flinch at this, that he didn’t actually care at all. As far as he was concerned, Lydia and Jackson were meant to be together. The way they helped each other pick up the pieces after that horrible semester sophomore year—after Jackson realized just what he had been used for, after Lydia was freed from Peter Hale’s possessive hold over her—was nothing short of inspiring. And in light of how absolutely perfect those two people who had once seemed so terrible together turned out to be, his Lydia crush kept diminishing and diminishing. 

Also, the fact that it kept being outshone by a fierce blonde werewolf with a secret dorky side and a tendency to surprise him—that helped too.

“What are they fighting about?” Stiles asked. 

Everyone’s eyes went to the doorway between the living room and kitchen, and Stiles turned around quickly, falling face first into the beanbag. When he managed to sit up, a very angry Derek was standing in front of the group, glistening with sweat and wearing a wifebeater. 

“You all know I can hear everything you say, right? No pack meeting today. All of you just go home, alright?”

“Derek. You’re seriously being this moody just because you got in a fight with Scott?” Erica said. 

“Boyfriends,” Lydia coughed into her hand. 

Derek growled at her, and Lydia instinctively nestled a bit closer to Jackson. She was still not as comfortable around werewolves when they were actually being wolfy (except Jackson) as Stiles was, which they all figured traced back to Peter Hale trauma. They hadn’t stopped her from insisting on being a part of the pack, though. Derek had been quick to agree since he knew that being immune to the bite had to be the symptom of something much bigger—something he was still trying to figure out. How easily she anchored Jackson was an added bonus. 

“You heard me. Get out of here. Everyone.”

They all grumbled and grabbed their things. 

“Hot tubbing at my place?” Jackson asked, as they headed for the apartment door.

The group enthusiastically agreed.

“Erica,” Derek barked. “I need to talk to you.”

Erica and Stiles, who were behind the others, exchanged knowing looks. This was how it always went. Whenever Derek and Scott got into some big fight, they would both make Erica and Stiles work it out for them. 

Erica sighed. “Have fun without me. And don’t be too shirtless before I get there.” 

Stiles grabbed her hand. “I have to go to Scott, but I’ll call you, alright? We got them through the last disaster. We can get them through this.” Stiles disappeared out the door with the rest of the group.

Derek, who was still standing by the door in the living room, cocked his head to the left. “So when is that going to happen? Or has it already?”

Erica was blushing furiously when she turned around. “That’s none of your business.”

“Come on, we all know, Erica. And usually teenage relationships are idiotic, but you two would actually not want to make me vomit.” 

“Oh, thanks.” Erica collapsed onto the couch, then kicked her feet onto the coffee table. “Now can we get this over with? Because people are in a hot tub and I want to be in a hot tub.”

Derek groaned as he sat on the recliner across from her. “I miss when you were more eager to impress me.” 

Erica shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown me to the ground when I made out with you.” 

“That was not when you stopped trying to impress me.”

“I know, but I like to remind you of it.”

“Not my best Alpha moment. I get it. Can we focus now?”

“What is it this time? Let me guess. Allison.” He looked surprised for a moment, until she said, “You’re not the only one who can smell, Derek. Her scent’s been all over him lately.”

“I know he thinks Allison is the same girl she was when he was sixteen, but she’s not,” Derek said fiercely. 

“We’re in a truce with the Argents. What’s the big deal?” 

“That’s the big deal. We’re in a truce. We’re at peace. The last thing all of us need is Scott screwing that truce up by getting back together with a hunter—because that’s what she is now. Not just a hunter’s daughter. A hunter. She hunted us.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that.”

“But of course Scott had to throw it in my face that he was the one who worked out this whole truce after Gerard died, like that gives him license to do whatever he wants. That does not make him in charge.”

“I get it,” Erica said. “I think it’s a bad idea too. But…you know, I don’t think it’s a fatally bad idea. Scott’s probably going to end up heartbroken and moping and it’ll be sad but he’ll get over it. I think it would just be for the best if you stayed out of it.”

“I can’t stay out of it. I’m responsible for him.”

Erica rolled her eyes. She was not buying this being about responsibility at all. It was about Derek wanting to assert that he was the Alpha—it was about ego and control and how threatened Derek was by how much the pack liked Scott. Sometimes Erica thought Derek probably had nightmares about Scott taking the Alpha crown from him, which was ridiculous. No matter how much they fought, Scott wouldn’t do that to Derek. They had come such a long way, they were like brothers now. 

“Just, you have to explain to Stiles. Stiles will get Scott to see reason.”

“Why don’t you just talk to Stiles then?”

“You know Stiles refuses to talk to me about fights I’m having with Scott without getting Scott’s side first.”

Erica sighed. “We’ll work it out, alright? Stiles and I will fix the pack like we always do, and you can just sit here and sulk and do nothing to actively contribute to fixing the problems that you create out of nothing.” 

“Well…that was harsh.” Derek pouted, and he looked both gorgeous and pathetic at the same time. Erica couldn’t believe how much more human he seemed than he had in the beginning. Even if that humanness often manifested itself in such pathetic displays as this, she liked it. 

“Ugh, don’t look at me like that. Do I really need to let you do something Alpha-y to get you in a better mood?” He was still pouting. “Okay, fine, I’ll let you give me advice because I know you love telling me what to do.”

“Advice about what?”

“What do you think?”

“Stiles?” 

“Stiles.”

“Honestly? I don’t see why you guys aren’t dating yet. You guys act like you’re a couple.” 

“It’s just—I didn’t want to make my move too fast, you know?”

“Because of Boyd?”

“No, Boyd and I are fine. It’s mostly…I just wanted to make sure Stiles really knew me first and that he was definitely over Lydia. If I acted too soon, it would scare him away and we wouldn’t even be friends. But now that we are friends, like, practically best friends—not that I’ll ever approach Scott levels for him but who can?—it’s even scarier than I thought it would be. To make the move.”

“But you know he likes you.”

“Of course I know that. It’s just, it’s this big leap, you know? And I just have this feeling, what if we both want it but we can’t make that leap?” 

“Well, the leap is not going to get any smaller the longer you wait, so if you need someone to push you to do it, this is officially that push. Just…do it.”

Erica glared at him. “Why are you being so supportive of this?”

“Because being not alone helps,” Derek said, which was surprising coming from him. Even surrounded by the pack, he was the group’s consummate loner. “And because I’m glad that I didn’t screw you up so much that you’re too afraid to like someone, and you know, you should get to be happy because you have a hard life and you do a good job, Erica. Also, Stiles is probably the most trustworthy person I’ve ever met, and he’s already used to all the werewolf stuff, so it’s in my best strategic interest to steer you towards him because I am not taking some other random boy into this pack or dealing with you trying to hide your wolf from a boyfriend and I am definitely not dealing with any more star-crossed lover scenarios.”

“And there we have it, the cold, calculating Derek we all know and love.”

“Consider yourself pushed,” he said, with a smile.

Erica smiled back. “Can I hug you now or-”

“If you have to,” he said.

Which was how he always responded but she knew that Derek liked to be hugged. He had gone for so long without it. The first time she hugged him—after he had rescued them from the Alpha pack, after she and Boyd told him they wanted to stay with him—he had just sort of stood there uncomfortably; he had now gotten to the point where he could pat her on the back. 

In fact, Derek wasn’t even letting go of Erica….which meant the fight with Scott was getting to him even more than he was letting on, and he was letting on a lot. 

“Derek.”

He dropped his arms. “Before you start shoving your tongue down Stiles’s throat, remember to talk to him about Scott.”

“The perfect romantic lead-in, thanks,” Erica deadpanned, grabbing her bag from the coffee table. “And by the way, if you get yourself together, you should go to Jackson’s. Go in the hot tub. Relax.”

He grunted. “I’m sure they don’t want the Alpha around.”

“Not if you’re gonna be in a mood all night, but I’m sure if you can shut your mouth about how terrible Scott is, nobody will mind. Okay, well, Jackson maybe, but since  
when do we care what Jackson wants?”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured, then retreated back to the bedroom. Erica thought she heard a pillow being torn in half as she left.

\--

Stiles had texted Erica to meet him at his house. Erica loved Stiles’s house. It felt like a home—but she couldn’t tell Stiles that. Not when she had two healthy parents and he had a dead mother and a father who he constantly worried about. But Sheriff Stilinski was just so nice, and he and Stiles clearly cared so much about each other, and she liked being around that—even if it gave her a twinge of sadness whenever she got home.

She knocked on the door, and Sheriff Stilinski answered.

“You and Scott—I don’t even know why you two knock at this point,” he said, shaking his head.

Erica smiled. “Want to make sure I see you, of course.” 

“Of course. Come on in. Stiles is upstairs. Oh, and he bought some of those cookies you like. He forbade me from touching them.” Sheriff Stilinski rolled his eyes. “They’re in the top cabinet.”

“Awesome! Thank you.”

“I’m heading out,” Sheriff Stilinski said. “Don’t let Stiles get into too much trouble.”

“I won’t, Mr. Stilinski.”

She felt warm as he left because Sheriff Stilinski actually liked her. Actually, he had warmed up to her at a much faster rate than Stiles had. As she climbed those steps to his room, she wondered if his dad ever wondered if they were dating. What did he say to Stiles when she was gone? Did he ask when Stiles was going to make his move, make it official? She wondered how Stiles responded—if he brushed him off, or if they had ever really talked about her. 

Stiles’s bedroom door was open so Erica walked right inside. Stiles had rolled his computer chair over to his bed, where he had a collection of dusty-looking books spread out on top of his blanket. His back was to the door, and he was looking so intently at a book, that he didn’t notice Erica until her hands were bearing down on his shoulders and she was saying a breathy, “Boo,” in his ear.

“Frick! Erica. Could you, like, not do that?”

She started massaging his shoulders and heard his heartbeat quicken. “Sorry. Sorry. You were just so focused, and I couldn’t resist. And what are you so focused on, by the way?” Everything’s fine right now.” Stiles didn’t say anything. “Isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Erica spun Stiles towards her. “Do you know something that I don’t?”

“I’m pretty sure I know a lot of things that you don’t. But I’m not going to list them or anything.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “If we didn’t have a peacemaking mission, you would be in really hot water for that statement, but since we have a job to do, whatever. Have your little secret research project.” Erica sat, cross-legged, on Stiles’s floor. “You want first?” 

Stiles sighed. “Sure. Well, the story is: Allison called Scott out-of-the-blue two weeks ago and said that she wanted to talk about everything that happened sophomore year, so Scott went. Allison said she’s been doing a lot of thinking and she wanted to be friends again. Of course, it’s Scott and Allison; they weren’t going to be friends again. So basically Scott’s position is, he’s really happy, he would be able to tell if Allison was lying, and there’s a truce, anyway, so nothing bad will happen. He’s super offended Derek doesn’t trust him by now to make his own choices and that Derek was acting like he wasn’t thinking about the pack when all Scott does is think about the pack. Your turn.”

“Derek thinks Scott’s being an idiot because Allison will never be the same girl she was when she and Scott dated. She’s a hunter now, truce or not. And while I don’t think Allison’s going to kill him or anything, the fact that she called him up out of nowhere? That’s suspicious. And Derek thinks he has the right to say something about it. He’s the Alpha. He’s responsible for all of us. And he really is just trying to protect him. And all of us, really, because he doesn’t want the truce compromised.”

“So…this seems like a standard enough Scott-Derek fight. Scott being upset Derek doesn’t trust him, Derek being upset about Scott not listening to him.” Stiles sighed. “We’re gonna be mediating variations of the argument for the rest of our lives, aren’t we?”

The rest of our lives. Erica smiled to herself. The pack was her family, not just for now, for high school, but even after that. While other people graduated and drifted apart, she knew she would have them there. She knew she would have Stiles there—somehow. Even if they were going to different colleges—that is, if Erica got around to filling out her applications.

“Looks like it,” Erica said. “So how are we handling this one? Derek wants you to make Scott see reason—”

“And Scott will never see reason when it comes to Allison, so that’s out.”

“Can we just order them to kiss and make up just this once? As a favor to us?” 

“Sure. I’ll let you do the ordering part with Derek to protect my cranium, but sure.” 

Erica laughed. “But seriously, what are we going to do? Derek is not going to change his mind about Scott seeing Allison again.”

“Well, he’ll have to live with it.”

“This is Derek we’re talking about. His family was killed by the Argents, and you know it kills him that we’ve had to accept help from Mr. Argent. He’s not going to live with it.” 

“If there was just some way Scott could prove Allison was sincere—”

“That won’t even matter to Derek. What if Mr. Argent finds out?”

“I can try to talk to Scott….a bit more calmly than Derek did, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to listen to me.”

“And maybe I can try to make it seem, like, vital that we need Derek to put up with Scott right away. Like, maybe I can get Isaac to fake some big emotional problem! And Derek won’t be able to deal. And then Isaac can be all, I really need Scott, and then Boyd and I can act like we’re all distressed about Isaac’s distress, and really put the pressure on Derek.” 

“Erica. Derek can tell when people are lying. You know, werewolf. Alpha.”

Erica sighed. “Gah, I know. But there must be some way to manipulate…something. I’m getting too old for this. Maybe this is finally it. Instead of patching things up, we just tell them, no, this is our pack, and you two are pack, and you are going to work things out.” Erica gasped. “Let’s get them into a room together and trap them in!”

“That room’s going to get destroyed. Maybe Derek will be okay with the Allison thing if Scott does something else, something that kind of proves he’s looking out for the pack.”

“Like what?” 

“Uh...Scott can fix that dishwasher that’s broken.”

“Wow, A-plus conflict resolution right there. Also, Derek fixed that yesterday.” 

“Okay, why don’t we tackle Scott first? Because he’s more flexible. You can come with me, and we can both try to convince him to—I don’t know. He won’t listen. How are we supposed to keep patching things up between two people who are allergic to listening?” 

Erica sighed. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore. I’m bored.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this soon. I’m up for a break. What do you want to talk about?”

She sat up a little straighter. She just had to force the words out—the words that had been dancing on her lips so long. She was Erica Reyes, and she was confident, and this was Stiles Stilinski, and he liked her, and she knew it. But that was it—he was Stiles Stilinski. The guy she liked since middle school. She dug her nails into her thigh. Do it. For a second, they turned into claws. She grimaced.

“Erica? Are you alright?”

“I want to talk about—I want to talk about why we haven’t kissed yet.”

“Huh?”

Erica stood up because she felt so much energy coursing through her body and this just felt like one of those things she shouldn’t be sitting down for. “I know that torch you’ve been carrying for Lydia has to be pretty much blown out by now. And I know that I don’t like anyone else.” When Stiles didn’t immediately say anything, Erica continued: “Come on, Stiles, you know I’m into you. I would like to say I am not the carry-a-torch-for-someone type, but if I was carrying a torch, it would have your name carved into the side of it, okay? And you can try to deny it all you want, but I can tell that you’re into me too. So why haven’t we….or maybe….why don’t we? Like, right now.”

“Erica,” he said, softly, sounding like absolute heartbreak. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Oh, save me the melodrama, Stiles. It’s just kissing.”

“Kissing that’ll become dating.”

“So you want to date me,” Erica said triumphantly.

“My best friend’s already a werewolf. I’m in a werewolf pack. I can’t have a werewolf girlfriend too.”

“Excuse me,” Erica said, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong with having a werewolf girlfriend?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—my life already turns into a supernatural suckfest easily enough and-”

“A supernatural suckfest? If you dated me your life would be a supernatural suckfest?”

“No, it’s just, I’m always worrying about my dad because his health and being a cop and being alone and because this supernatural stuff might get to him, and I’m worrying about Scott because he’s my best friend, and I’m worrying about all of you, the whole pack, and I’m worrying about you because I care you about so much. And Erica, if we get together…the last thing I need is that type of worry added to my life. I just can’t.”

“First off, Stiles, I don’t need you worrying about me, okay? Because I’m fine and I can take care of myself. But I’m glad to know that I’m not even worth the worry. That’s great, really. Forget I said anything.” 

“Erica, you know I don’t mean it like that. I just…I have a lot on my plate.”

“And dating me would just be adding onto the burden. I get it, Stiles. You know what? Tell Scott that he’s going to have to send you to another mediator from now—not that Scott would know the word ‘mediator.’ You can talk to Isaac or Boyd or Lydia, Jackson even, that should be fun. Or talk to Derek himself. But just—don’t talk to me.” 

“Erica,” he said, walking after as she headed towards the door.

“Stiles, you lay a hand on me, and I will rip your arm out of its socket with my teeth and let Prada chew on it.”

“Yeesh.”

“And also, do you think I don’t have a lot on my plate? We all do. But I’m not going to wait until it’s more emotionally convenient for you to date me. I don’t want that.”

“Erica-”

She froze halfway through the door. She was almost in tears—very angry tears. “Do you remember when Boyd and I broke up? It was the day we moved Derek into his apartment-”

“Yeah.”

“You asked me what happened, and I told you the truth. That we had gone through a lot of crap together and that we cared a lot about each other but maybe we were figuring out that care wasn’t a romantic type of love—that it was a different type of love, just as strong, but different. I’m not confused with you, Stiles. I know what these feelings are. I know. I don’t want to just be your friend. And maybe I should’ve told you that sooner but I didn’t want to rush it. I wanted to make sure you were over Lydia and really into me, and you’ve been giving me all the signs. The constant hang-outs. The flirting. Touching my hair. Holding my hand. But even now your feelings aren’t strong enough for you to actually do this, and maybe they’ll never be. Maybe this was always meant to be one of those things where I was really into you and you just liked me but never enough. Maybe this was meant to be one of those things to toughen me up and make me cynical and—I don’t know, maybe this is just something I was meant to get over, not wait for.” Erica swiped at her tears with her wrist. “I’m not crying over you. I’m crying because…I’m just…I’m exhausted, okay?” 

He had seen the vulnerable side of Erica Reyes over the years but never this vulnerable. And he wanted to hug her because they did that now and she told him he gave nice hugs but he couldn’t because, in this state, he really did believe Erica would rip off his arm with her teeth. 

“Erica, it’s not that I don’t like you. I like you a lot-”

She spat, accusingly, “But you’re going off to college next year.” 

“Uh, yes. And so are you, right?”

“What I’m doing doesn’t matter. What matters is that you think going off to college is your chance to get away from this ‘supernatural suckfest’ and be normal, and that’s why, even though we both like each other, you won’t date me. Because you want to be free to go off to school and meet some normal, human girl and pretend that you aren’t completely and permanently entangled in all of this, but you are, Stiles. You think that just because you’ve never taken the bite you can just get out of it? Whenever you want? That you can just choose to live a simple life and cut out some of the worry and the stress? Maybe you’re right. Maybe you can. Go for it, hon. Have fun.” 

Stiles looked down at the floor. “That’s not fair, Erica.” 

“Come on, Stiles. Tell me I’ve got it wrong.”

“I’ll always be part of the pack, and I’ll always be here for you guys no matter what. That will never change.” 

“So it’s just me that’s too much?”

“Nothing that I was saying earlier came out right. If I can just…get my words in order…and explain-”

“Save it. I hope you find some normal girlfriend and are very happy together, and I’ll just take my werewolf self out of the equation.” 

Erica charged out of the room and down the stairs and was actually happy to hear that Stiles was not following after her. She was already mortified by the tears that Stiles saw in the bedroom, and those had only been the quiet type of tears—not the sniffling, moaning type of tears that she felt welling up inside her. 

Then she heard Sheriff Stilinki’s voice. “Leaving in a second. Just forgot my dinner.” He was walking through the front door as she turned the corner. “Erica, are you alright?”

She pasted on her fakest smile, but she knew it was not convincing—not when her skin was already blotchy from tears. “I’m fine, Mr. Stilinski.” 

“What did Stiles do?” His voice was threatening. “Stiles!” he bellowed. “Get your butt down here!”

“No, no, it’s fine, Mr. Stilinski.” She swiped at her eyes. “I just—if I don’t see you for a while, just thank you for everything and for letting me hang out here and being nice to me and stuff. You and Stiles have a really nice house and are…you’re a really nice family.” 

“Erica-”

“Thanks again, Mr. Stilinski,” she said, before running out the door.


	2. Hot Tub and Heartbeats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened? You’re upset.” Then it dawned on him. “Stiles,” he said.
> 
> “I don’t want to talk about it.” 
> 
> She gulped and looked over at everyone in the hot tub, thinking of how, soon, they would all be getting a whiff of that sadness Derek had picked up on right away—besides Lydia, that is, and she was so perceptive Erica wouldn’t be surprised if she could tell anyway. Sometimes she hated this pack thing. She hated that they could tell when she was hurting. And she hated that they were the people she wanted to be around when things hurt. Sometimes she missed when she used to handle her pain alone. It was almost like she had forgotten how to these days.

Stiles kicked his desk, then texted Scott: “S.O.S. At my house. Get here like two minutes ago please.” Afterwards, he thought the text might’ve been a bit melodramatic—especially since their lives so often involved actual life-or-death emergencies, but he needed something drastic to get Scott’s attention if he was with Allison. Stiles sat on his bed, amidst the old books. When he felt too frantic, he started pacing. 

Erica had just left his room crying. Because of him. Erica who he had liked for over a year. Erica who made him feel like he didn’t need claws to be a hero, Erica who was strong and reckless and sweet and playful, with the prettiest blonde hair….and he just wanted to kiss her all the time. 

And she had been standing there, in his bedroom, wanting to kiss him.

And he rejected her.

He was pretty sure he was the dumbest guy in the universe—though the fact that he helped manage to keep Scott alive was pretty much evidence to the contrary.

After about ten more minutes of stressed walking—and stumbling into his bed a few times—Stiles heard a knock at his window. Scott was crouched outside. Stiles unlocked the window and opened it, then immediately began pacing again.

“I got here as soon as I could,” Scott said, as he slipped into Stiles’s room. “I wasn’t, uh, looking at my phone. Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Erica hates me.”

“That’s the emergency?” Scott laughed. “She does not hate you, dude.”

“She does now! She doesn’t want to speak to me again.”

“What? Maybe you misheard her.”

Stiles sighed. “I may not have werewolf hearing, Scott, but ‘Don’t talk to me’ is pretty clear.” 

“I don’t get it. What happened?”

Scott sat down, and Stiles explained everything.

“I don’t get it,” Scott said again.

“What’s not to get? I said everything!”

“I don’t get all that stuff you said to Erica. Why would you say any of that?”

“Because it was true.”

“But you love her.”

“I don’t—I don’t love her,” he stammered. He had thrown that word around about Lydia his whole life…and then those feelings had crumbled away. The next time he used the word “love,” he wanted to be certain that’s what he was feeling. Plus, he was sort of terrified of the idea of being in love with Erica Reyes—and maybe the idea of being in love with somebody who might actually love him back. 

“But you like her and she likes you. So what’s the problem?”

It dawned on Stiles, then, that Scott was literally the last person he should have approached with this problem because, even after losing Allison sophomore year, he managed to hold onto his steadfast hope in the unbeatable power of love. Though they hadn’t talked about it often, Stiles knew that Scott’s love for Allison had kept on living and that Scott really did believe they’d end up together. And now he was with her, again, at least in the hooking-up-kind-of-way, and he was loving it—even if he had a million reasons to be hesitant.

A lot more reasons than Stiles had to be hesitant about Erica, anyway.

“Sometimes you have to think things through first, Scott.”

“Is this about me and Allison? Because I’m thinking things through and I know that she’s a good person, Stiles. It shouldn’t matter that she got a bit confused. Anyway, that was a long time ago.” 

“I know Allison’s a good person. It’s not about that. It’s about—it’s about how I feel when you’re all in danger. It’s about how bad that feels. How bad it feels even when I know, in my head, that everyone’s safe and everything’s normal. Because I can know that, mentally, but I don’t feel it in my body, and I don’t feel it when I’m trying to fall asleep each night, I just don’t feel it. Even when things are perfectly calm like they are now, I always am worried about what the next threat might be. Imagining what could go wrong.” He gestured to the old books he was using for research. Then he sat down on his bed and started rubbing his temples. “Remember last fall—that full moon where we didn’t know where Erica was? And we were searching for her out in the woods and I just—I was so scared. Because that wasn’t like Erica. She really could’ve been dead and I didn’t want to think about dealing with my life if that happened. Then we found her and I thought it would make me feel better but they had hurt her, those stupid elves, and I think I knew then. That worrying about Erica wouldn’t go away. That she was always going to be in danger, just like you are. And I’d never get used to it. I’d never be able to handle it better. And…I know I should’ve stopped myself from leading her on. I should’ve stopped myself from liking her. I should’ve. But I couldn’t. Still…I can’t date her, Scott. I can barely take how it feels now, and I won’t be able to take not knowing if I’m going to lose my girlfriend, my first girlfriend, at any moment.”

“Dude,” Scott said, “you’re making a mistake.”

“I just…I need her not to hate me. Are you gonna help or what?”

“Of course, man. You know it.” 

Stiles managed a small smile. “So how-”

“No clue yet,” Scott said. “But I’m gonna help you get this fixed. I promise. In the meantime, let’s go do something.” 

“Really?” Stiles said. “You can go back to Allison. It’s fine.”

“No, man, let’s go do something.” 

Stiles smiled a bit more brightly. “To the lacrosse field?”

“Sure,” Scott said.

Stiles reached for his lacrosse stick. “Oh, and if you’re in the mood to do me favors, could you also just try to make up with Derek? Just suck it up and go to him and try to work things out for once?”

“Consider it done,” Scott said.

\--

Erica was not going to stay at home and cry over Stiles. That was just not happening. Especially when the rest of her pack was in a hot tub together having fun. Which was why she found herself at the gate to Jackson’s yard, wearing her red bikini. Her face was covered with much more foundation than she usually used, in hopes that it would hide the fact that she’d been crying. She pushed at the gate. Locked. 

“Can someone let me in?” she called over it. She could see them all in the hot tub—Boyd and Isaac on one side, Lydia and Jackson all nestled together on the other, and Derek, sour-faced, with a bubble of space around him. 

She could hear Lydia telling Jackson to get up, it was his house and therefore his job as host, and Jackson saying, why should he get up, they were all lucky he let them come to their hot tub at all and Isaac saying Jackson was the most spoiled person he ever met and Boyd saying Jackson was lucky he even had a hot tub, until, finally, Derek growled and got up. He was as sulky-faced as ever as he approached the gate. Then, in an instant, his expression shifted to concern. 

“Erica, are you okay?” he said, as he unlatched the lock and let her in.

“What? I’m fine.” 

“What happened? You’re upset.” Then it dawned on him. “Stiles,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

She gulped and looked over at everyone in the hot tub, thinking of how, soon, they would all be getting a whiff of that sadness Derek had picked up on right away—besides Lydia, that is, and she was so perceptive Erica wouldn’t be surprised if she could tell anyway. Sometimes she hated this pack thing. She hated that they could tell when she was hurting. And she hated that they were the people she wanted to be around when things hurt. Sometimes she missed when she used to handle her pain alone. It was almost like she had forgotten how to these days.

She strutted past Derek and over to the hot tub. Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson looked up at once, smelling the strength of what Erica was feeling. Erica wished she had some sort of werewolf perfume that could cover that right up. Instead, she just smiled and slipped in between Boyd and Isaac. She threw an arm around each of them and said, “My boys.” Then she rested her head against Isaac’s shoulder. “So what did I miss?” 

Derek was re-entering his lonely corner of the hot tub, still looking at Erica warily.

“The usual,” Isaac said. “Jackson being a tool, Derek being mopey-”

“And me being fabulous,” Lydia said, with a smile. “But I think the important question here is what did we miss because I do not have to be a werewolf to know that something is seriously wrong here.” 

Erica sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Lydia Martin of all people about how Stiles liked her but didn’t like her enough. It wasn’t that Erica disliked Lydia. She didn’t. Actually, she was continually surprised by how much she didn’t. Before the bite, Erica had at once envied and assumed the worst of girls like Lydia, and she had spent the first month of Lydia being in the pack groaning about it to Isaac (who had also assumed the worst). But soon enough, she had come to appreciate just how smart Lydia was, how she had no problem challenging Jackson or Derek or anybody else for that matter. Meanwhile, Lydia’s friendship with Allison had become strained and so Lydia started showing more and more of an interest in Erica. Erica appreciated it, that they were genuinely friends.

But she did not appreciate being on the receiving end of one of Lydia’s scrutinizing looks. 

“We can go talk in private,” Lydia said, almost eagerly. She stood up and extended her hand to Erica. 

Erica looked down at her lap. 

“Lydia, just leave her alone,” Jackson said.

“I’m being helpful, Jackson. Maybe if you tried it for once in your life-”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap, Lydia. Obviously she wants to be left alone-”

“Sorry if I can’t smell that. And also, obviously she wants company. That’s why she came, right?”

“What I want is for both of you to shut up, alright?” Erica snapped. “I just want to be in a hot tub with my friends and relax. That is literally all I want.” 

Dejected, Lydia sat back down on Jackson’s lap. They were back to being as hands-on as usual—which, again, was the opposite of what Erica needed at the moment. This had been a horrible mistake. Erica mentally berated herself for not taking the chance to wallow. Sitting on her couch with some popcorn and Freaks and Geeks on DVD would really have been such a better choice.

The hot tub remained in awkward silence for a few moments—until Lydia said, “I wonder what time Stiles is coming.” 

Derek glared at her. 

Erica gulped. “He won’t be coming. And if he does, I’m leaving.”

“Oh,” Lydia said. 

“Yeah.” 

Gently, Lydia said, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Talking helps,” Boyd added.

Erica snorted. “That’s rich coming from you. I don’t think you even said a single thing to me the first week we were pack! You know what this is? Just because I’m a girl, you all think I need to talk out my problems or I’ll just combust from too many emotions, but,” she threw her arm towards Derek, almost hitting Isaac in the face, “we let him sit around being stony and silent and brooding because he’s a guy and that’s how he’s allowed to handle his emotional problems! I don’t think so.”

“Point granted,” Lydia said. 

And Erica smiled because if Lydia was conceding, then she had won, and they could all get on to pretending Erica wasn’t upset and she could lose herself in their snippy little arguments and their laughter and pack jokes and the settled, protected feeling she had between Boyd and Isaac. 

But then Derek sighed. “Erica, the last thing you want to do is be like me.”

Lydia cocked her head and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Another good point.”

Isaac didn’t say anything—just tangled his fingers with hers, and that was what broke Erica open, not Derek’s seriousness or Lydia’s eagerness to be her confidante. Because Isaac was everything easy about being pack—and he had been since the beginning, when Derek had first driven her to that creepy lair and introduced the pair. They had been comfortable around each other almost instantly. There were no complications from being exes, like there with Boyd. No desire to please mixed with the desire for him to be better, to be more whole, like there was with Derek. None of the residual envy she had towards Lydia. None of the…Jackson-y-ness of Jackson. 

It was just simple and caring and pack, and there was nothing to cloud that vision. She could see his concern so clearly. And something about his hand in hers, something about that caring, reminded her that’s really what it was, from all of them. Concern.

So the words came tumbling out: “Stiles doesn’t want to date me. Which is, like, no big deal or anything because I’m a big girl, I can handle it. But, um, I thought—I just thought that he did. Which isn’t my fault, you know, because you all saw it, right? I’m not making it up. He’s been acting so into me for months and then suddenly, when I actually say something about it, dating me would be too much of a burden because a werewolf girlfriend is too much worry, as if I can’t take care of myself. And just—it’s really surprise, more than anything. That’s what it is.”

It was a relief, to get those words out there—even if she knew it was much more than surprise. And it was a relief to have Isaac squeezing her hand and it was even kind of nice to hear Lydia cooing at her, “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s my fault,” Derek said. “You were just following my advice and-”

“Ugh, Derek. Not now.”

“Erica, you can do much better than Stilinski. He’s a loser. And I have meaner things to say but I’ve been doing a really good job at holding them in lately and if I start I’m never going to shut up again,” Jackson said.

Erica laughed lightly, then was surprised to find herself sniffling. “Um, Lydia, do you think we could-”

“Yes! Yes! A million times yes!” Lydia grabbed Erica by the hand and helped her out of the hot tub. “Now you boys turn off your werewolf hearing while we go talk, okay?”

Erica actually found herself somewhat comforted by Lydia dragging her across the lawn.

\--

“This is not the lacrosse field,” Stiles said as he and Scott crouched in the bushes outside Jackson’s house. 

“This is a million times better! A stroke of genius! If you hear what Erica’s saying, it’ll help you get her back.”

“Not get her back because I never had her like that. Just not to hate me,” Stiles clarified. “Also, you’ve gotten creepier since you became a werewolf. Taking lessons from your Alpha, huh?” 

Scott shrugged. 

“One of Jackson’s neighbors is going to see us and call the cops and I don’t want to tell my dad I’m lurking outside of Jackson’s house because Erica hates me.” 

“I hear her!” Scott whispered. “Come on.” 

Before Stiles could tell him, again, that this was a horrible idea, Scott was crawling through the bushes with alarming speed. When Stiles caught up with Scott by a window, Scott was making a writing motion in the air. Stiles grabbed a paper and pen from his backpack and shoved them towards Scott, who scrambled to write down what he was hearing. Stiles peered at the words over Scott’s shoulder. Scott was managing to write pretty speedily. His handwriting was even surprisingly legible. 

L—Maybe cutting him off completely isn’t the best idea. 

E—I know I need to be around him. He’s a part of the pack. But I don’t want to look at him. I can’t. I just—

L—It’s okay. Erica, it’ll be okay.

E—It’s not. Why did I let this happen? 

L—Let what happen?

E—You know, caring so much.

L—Because you like him. And that’s not stupid. That’s just how you feel. And you know what? You shouldn’t be ashamed of how you feel, okay? 

E—It doesn’t make sense. Why would he do this? He knew what I felt. I know he did. And he made it seem—I just don’t know why he did this. 

L—He likes you too. He’s just being a moron.

E—He apparently doesn’t like me all that much. I hate feeling like this, Lydia.

L—Like what?

Long pause

E—Like I did before I got bit. I just—I don’t know. I hate him.

L—No, you don’t. 

E—No, I 

Suddenly, Scott’s hand stopped. Stiles nudged him with his shoulder. It sounded like they were getting to important stuff! Scott just shook his head. Stiles looked up. The window was open, and Erica and Lydia were both there, peering down at them. Lydia was giving Stiles a look of utter disgust, and Erica’s eyes were narrowed with this rage so intense Stiles thought he almost felt his skin boiling. 

“I—I can explain,” Stiles said.

Erica spotted the paper in Scott’s hand. “You had him eavesdrop on me, Stiles? Really? Give that to me. Give it. Now.” 

“It was my idea,” Scott said, handing her the piece of paper. “Please don’t be mad at Stiles.”

Erica crumpled it in her hands while maintaining fierce eye contact with Stiles. “Are you just trying to humiliate me? Is that your end game here?”

“Erica, no, why would I—that’s crap. You know that’s crap. Just, can we talk please?” 

Erica gulped, and then, not even looking at Stiles, turned around and walked away, leaving only Lydia at the window sill.

“You do know how horribly you screwed this up, right? Because without this happening, I would’ve given you a 75% chance of making up with Erica today due to my expert help. Now you’re at no chance whatsoever.” 

Stiles sighed. “I’m aware.”

“Just making sure.” 

Lydia closed the window. Scott started rambling profuse apologies besides Stiles, but Stiles was too busy thinking about Erica saying she hated him. She couldn’t mean it, right? She couldn’t. But still, she had said it. She had been able to say those words. And that didn’t mean anything good for him.

“It’s alright, buddy. Not your fault,” Stiles finally said, slapping Scott on the shoulder. “We got away with it for a decent length of time, anyway. I wonder how they caught us.”

“Well, that part was your fault. Your heartbeat went crazy for a little bit there. Like you were in trouble. When it’s someone you lo—uh, care about—and their heart starts beating like that, well, you just hear. Even if you didn’t know they were nearby in the first place.” Scott paused for a moment, then added, “If you’re a werewolf.”

“I got that part, thanks.” 

“So, uh, want to actually go to the lacrosse field now?”

What Stiles really wanted to do was lie on his bed and pretend none of this had happened, pretend that Erica could still show up at his bedroom window with a so-bad-it’s-good movie and curly fries for two, that he could still grab Erica’s hand and she would hold his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. But he knew that mental state would be hard to reach, and Scott was still look at him so apologetically. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Meanwhile, Erica made her way back to the hot tub, Lydia on her heels saying that they could still talk. As far as Erica was concerned, she had already said way too much. That was the whole problem, actually. She had said way too much with Stiles. She had wanted too much. And now she had ran her mouth again, admitting, once more, how upset everything made her—and of course, he had to be there to hear it. The jerk.

She took her seat between Boyd and Isaac again. Derek was looking at her suspiciously. 

Maybe, she reasoned, the sound of Stiles’s heart (she couldn’t stop hearing it; she feared it might become her mental soundtrack), frantic over her and her anger and maybe her “I hate him,” said just as much—said all that needed to be said. Then she reminded herself that he had said all that needed to be said. He had said no. 

She rested her head against Isaac’s chest and tried to get his heartbeat, steady, thrumming through her brain instead.


	3. My Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek sighed and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “It’s just not a good idea for you to be here, Stiles. Not today.” 
> 
> “You’re letting Erica kick me out of the pack?” Stiles said, incredulous.
> 
> “Don’t be a moron,” he said. “It’s one meeting. Right now I have actual things to talk to the pack about and I don’t want petty teenage drama getting in the way.”
> 
> “What are you going to do?” Stiles crossed his arms. “Send me a newsletter? Put me on your pack e-mail list? Text me the highlights? Do you have a pack Twitter? I can just follow that instead, no need to actually have me in the meetings at all!"

A few days had passed, and Scott and Derek had somehow reached an understanding. Stiles didn’t care much about how—only that it had happened. He wasn’t much in the mood to talk about anything, and Scott had sensed that, so they spent most of their free time the next few days playing video games and barely speaking. Erica was still completely avoiding Stiles and had not returned any of his calls. 

But things were bound to change at the pack meeting. Stiles was certain about that.

Derek had called for the meeting, and Stiles knew Erica wouldn’t be able to avoid him there—not when they were all crammed into Derek’s living room over greasy pizza that Derek judged them for eating. 

Stiles ended up driving Scott to the apartment complex. Derek was leaning against the brick wall of the building when they got out. Stiles and Scott exchanged worried glances. This was probably not the best sign.

“Hello,” said Stiles, dragging out the “oh” sound.

“You can’t come up today,” Derek said.

Stiles looked at Scott. “Seriously? I thought you two worked this out.”

“No. Not him, Stiles. You.”

“What do you mean I can’t come up today?”

“I’m not coming if Stiles isn’t,” Scott added.

Derek sighed and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “It’s just not a good idea for you to be here, Stiles. Not today.” 

“You’re letting Erica kick me out of the pack?” Stiles said, incredulous.

“Don’t be a moron,” he said. “It’s one meeting. Right now I have actual things to talk to the pack about and I don’t want petty teenage drama getting in the way.”

“What are you going to do?” Stiles crossed his arms. “Send me a newsletter? Put me on your pack e-mail list? Text me the highlights? Do you have a pack Twitter? I can just follow that instead, no need to actually have me in the meetings at all!" 

Derek grumbled before saying, “It’s your funeral.” Then Derek started towards the apartment building. Scott was tugging at Stiles’s arm, grinning and saying something about how this was Stiles’s chance, but Stiles was focused on Derek’s apartment window.

Erica was standing there, lips pressed tightly together. He tried smiling up at her, and she immediately turned around. Her hair, curled that day, bounced in this irresistible way.

Yup, it was his funeral.  
\--

Derek was talking about some magic glowworm in a serious voice, but nobody was listening because the tension was so thick. Everyone except Boyd, but that was to be expected. Isaac had been in the right-hand-man position once, but Boyd had surpassed him by being ultra-competent and on-task. Lydia, who was sitting next to Erica, kept giving her these reassuring and strangely sympathetic looks. Stiles had never seen Lydia look at anybody that way, excepting Jackson. Jackson was noticing it too; he was staring, actually, as if that could switch Lydia’s attention back to him. Isaac had his hand protectively on Erica’s leg. Stiles wondered if Isaac was doing that just to annoy him, because if anyone needed protection in this situation, it was Stiles. Scott kept slipping Stiles a sheet of paper with encouraging notes and suggestions, like, “I think she kind of looked at you!!!” and “Smile more,” and “True love conquers all. .” 

Finally, Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. Derek paused for a second, and the words burst out: “Isn’t anyone going to point out that this is getting kind of ridiculous?”

“Stiles, I’m talking,” Derek growled.

“Nobody’s listening, Derek. You know nobody’s listening!”

“Just because you have the attention span of a goldfish-”

“Derek, that’s rude,” Scott said.

“I’m only talking ten more minutes, and then I’m done, so if both of you could just shut up-”

Suddenly, Erica was standing.

“Not you too,” Derek said, with a sigh.

“Go on without us,” Erica said. She strode over to Stiles and roughly grabbed him by the arm. “Boyd can fill me in.”

“Erica,” he said, his voice switching into Alpha mode. It reminded Stiles of a parent scolding a child.

“Derek,” she replied, with just as much ferocity. “This’ll just be a minute.”

Erica pulled Stiles all the way into Derek’s bedroom. The pack had attempted to make the rest of the apartment as homey as possible, but Derek’s bedroom was sacred space. It was clean and sparsely decorated—white walls, black bedspread, and a dark wooden dresser against the wall. Erica noticed a forest green journal and what looked like a photo album, and she was intensely curious, but then she felt Stiles squirming and remembered that she was touching him and that she didn’t want to be…and also that she did want to be, just not like this. She dropped her arm to her side. 

“What was that?” Erica said. “You have the nerve to even show up here—and then you make a scene like that!” 

“Me? You’re the one who almost dragged my arm out of its socket! And I’m a part of this pack. I’ve risked my life more than enough times-”

“You’re a part of this pack, huh? Sure. Okay.” Erica couldn’t stand being so close to Stiles. She backed up until her legs were hitting Derek’s bed. 

“What does that mean? Am I supposed to get the bite or something so I count? Is that what you want?" 

“No, why would I suggest that? Wouldn’t want you doing something too permanent.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now,” Stiles said.

Erica sat down and took a deep breath. He was beautiful, he really was. She wasn’t sure how more people didn’t see it. And he was smart and funny and capable and brave. He didn’t need the bite. 

“I don’t want you to get the bite,” she said. 

“Good because I don’t want it.” He paused for a second, then said: “You never gave me a chance to apologize.”

“You spied on me.”

“Yeah, and you listen to my heartbeat all the time and smell out what I’m feeling. It’s not that different.”

“So you’re not sorry.”

Stiles scratched at the back of his head. “No, I’m just saying, I don’t have all those werewolf advantages that you do to be able to tell what’s going on with someone, and so maybe I thought that justified-”

“You couldn’t tell what was going on with me?” Erica knew she should keep it down, that the whole pack was probably already listening, and that this would just make it worse, but she couldn’t believe he would say that. “You couldn’t tell what was going on with me when I flirted with you—just you—for months, when I thought you liked me back, when you rejected me and I left your house crying like some idiot? You couldn’t tell what was going on? I don’t know what could’ve made that picture any clearer for you, Stiles.”

Stiles felt like he should be afraid of her, but he wasn’t. He wanted to sit next to her, hold her, make everything okay. He wanted to shush her, and he wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to forget that she was a werewolf and in constant danger. He wanted to forget all the nights he spent poring over books in hopes that he could accumulate enough information to protect them all from whatever came next. 

But he couldn’t forget. 

So he kept his distance because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he got any closer. 

“Erica, please-”

“Here’s how this is working, Stilinski. I don’t want to make this miserable for everyone, and I know we need you in the pack, so I’m not going to throw a fit that you’re here. But you don’t speak to me. Just—I know this sounds harsh and that it seems crazy to you, but please—just don’t speak to me.”

Erica stood up and went to walk past him. 

Stiles grabbed her arm. 

“Erica, you’re my friend. One of my best friends. You can’t just cut me off because I won’t date you.”

She huffed, blowing hair out of her face. “I’m not cutting you off because you won’t date me. I’m cutting you off because I can’t—because I want to…” Erica honestly wasn’t sure what to say. There was nothing that didn’t sound melodramatic. And she was so distracted by his lips—those lips she had been so sure that she would kiss one day. She reached for his face, skimmed his lip with her thumb. He was standing completely still, though his grip on her arm had tightened a little. She closed her eyes and thought about kissing him because she wanted to and that would be better than admitting everything she was feeling and, really, why not just do it? 

Maybe things would’ve been a hundred times better if she had just kissed him in his bedroom, without giving him a chance to think.

But she couldn’t do it. He was shaking and he smelled anxious and not the good, fluttery kind of anxious—properly anxious. Maybe with even a bit of dread mixed in. 

She opened her eyes. His eyes were focused on her thumb. She let it brush his lip a little more before pulling back her hand. “I just need things on my terms right now, Stiles.” 

Erica moved into the hallway. 

Stiles called after her, “Well, I’m not agreeing to them!” 

Erica wasn’t sure why this surprised her. This was Stiles. Stupidly, annoyingly pushy Stiles who had to be in dire straits before he thought of giving up. Stiles who was more than willing to be a pest if he thought it necessary (and sometimes was one just for fun). But Erica also knew she was stubborn—just as stubborn, if not more stubborn, than Stiles. And this was a matter of self-preservation. Years of bullying on top of years of being hunted? She had gotten good at that. 

She didn’t stop to think that Stiles had too.

\--

After Stiles and Erica got back to the living room, Derek only talked for a few more minutes. The pack meeting cleared pretty quickly—a contrast from usual meetings, with plenty of pizza and crappy television shows. Stiles and Scott were following Jackson and Lydia out the door. Isaac and Boyd were a bit in front of them, talking fervently. Isaac was trying to get Boyd into comic books; Boyd didn’t see the appeal. 

Meanwhile, Lydia whispered something into Jackson’s ear, and he groaned before nodding into agreement. 

They both turned around suddenly, and Stiles stumbled right into Jackson’s chest. Jackson rolled his eyes as he pushed Stiles away, then brushed off his sleeves, as if Stiles had dirtied the shirt (which was probably, like, three hundred bucks, knowing Jackson, even though it was a regular plaid shirt like Stiles bought at the Old Navy.)

“So that was a bit of a mess, wasn’t it?” Lydia said.

“I think Stiles did a great job.” Scott clapped Stiles on the back. Lydia gave him a withering look. “Okay, it was a little bit of a mess.” 

“I don’t really need a critique right now, but thanks, Lydia.”

“Jackson and I are going to help you.”

Jackson groaned again, and Lydia elbowed him. 

“I don’t know if this is really something you two can help with.”

“I can help with anything,” Lydia said with a smirk. “And also, you and Erica are messing with the group dynamic, and I am not letting our group dynamic suffer just because you two are playing middle school mind games.”

“We’re not playing middle school mind games!” Stiles protested. And who was Lydia to talk, anyway? She and Jackson made a great couple, Stiles could genuinely see that now, but it’s not like they were always the most mature. 

Stiles was ready to bring up Jackson and Lydia’s Valentine’s Day debacle of junior year (and the resulting two weeks of tantrums and pouting), but Lydia was already replying with a dismissive, “Whatever.” 

Jackson added: “We’re pack, Stilinski. Even you. We’re not just going to let you and Erica stay miserable, alright? That means we’re all miserable and then Derek will get miserable and then we’ll be extra miserable, and I, personally, don’t want to deal with extra misery.” 

“Glad to hear about your selfless motives, as always.” 

Jackson snarled. Stiles detected just a hint of a wolf’s growl from the back of his throat. 

“If I were to theoretically accept this help, what would it consist of?”

“A lot of weight training, work on your lacrosse skills—what do you think, you idiot? Advice,” Jackson said.

Stiles and Scott exchanged hesitant looks. Then Stiles remembered that Scott’s help so far had led to him hiding out in a bush to spy on Erica and then getting caught. Also, he still had scratches from those bushes. 

“I’m in,” Stiles said.

Lydia grinned, genuinely and brightly. “Oh, good! We will meet later then? Jackson and I need to have some time alone to strategize.”

“Strategize? Is that what you call it?” Jackson said with a smile. 

“Eww,” Scott and Stiles said in unison as Lydia and Jackson headed towards the Porsche. 

\--

Erica had been the only one to linger in Derek’s apartment. She had poured herself a cup of coffee and was standing against his kitchen counter. Derek watched her from the living room. He was drinking his own coffee from the WORLD’S BEST ALPHA mug Erica had gotten him last Christmas. She thought it was hysterical. Derek claimed he didn’t find it all that amusing, but he always drank from it anyway. 

“So,” Erica said, “great job at keeping Stiles out.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, he had a point, Erica. He’s pack.”

She shook her head. “He’s going to leave eventually, Derek.”

“You actually think that?”

Erica bit her lip, then nodded.

“And it’s probably for the best, anyway,” Erica said. “If he does leave. He doesn’t need the bite. He doesn’t need to be a werewolf. Why should he stay? More stress for him. I should want him to leave. That would be the good thing for me to do as someone who lo-who cares about him.”

“Sit down,” Derek ordered.

She did as he said and joined him on the couch.

“You shouldn’t want him to leave,” he said. “And you don’t know that he will.”

“Once he goes away for college, he can have a normal life and a normal girlfriend. Why would he stick around?”

“Because he cares. About all of us. About Scott. About you.”

Erica leaned her head against Derek. He fidgeted it a little but let her rest there anyway. “You’re such a softie now. I don’t know what happened.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you are. I’m not even that much of a softie. What makes you so sure, anyway?”

“Because it’s always been on my mind—that you all could leave.”

“And Boyd and I did once. We proved your point.”

“But you came back, and now you’re all here, and I’ve been waiting and waiting for you all to leave, and you’re still all here. Safe and healthy and here.” Derek was peering into Erica’s eyes. “I can’t promise Stiles won’t leave. But I bet if he does, chances are he’ll come right back because that’s what people do. They run away from home…and then they go back to it. He’s home here—with us. With you. And assuming that people will leave? That’s really heavy. I don’t want you carrying that around.” 

“You’re always worrying we’ll turn into you,” Erica said quietly.

“Yeah,” Derek admitted. “I am.” 

“You know,” she said, tapping the side of his WORLD’S BEST ALPHA mug with her long, red fingernails, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

Then, suddenly, Derek kissed the top of her forehead, and Erica almost bit her tongue in shock. This was, after all, Derek Hale—the big, bad Alpha who still was barely capable of hugging her back. He was blushing when she looked up at him. 

“And what was that about?”

“I have you fooled if you think that, but, well, it’s nice…that you do.”

She smiled because Derek was her Alpha but he was also her friend now, and even more than that, he was really a big brother to her. And there was something about a broken heart that made her appreciate that all the more.


	4. Prom Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Plenty of people are going to ask you, you know.” 
> 
> “I know.”
> 
> “But I guess not the person you want. You’ve always been hung up on him, haven’t you?” Boyd said, without even a hint of bitterness to his voice. “Since we first met, even.”
> 
> Erica gulped.

Erica groaned at the prom flyer stuck to her locker. She and Stiles had planned on going together. Of course, that had changed.

It wasn’t as if he had asked her or anything.

It was after a pack meeting and Jackson and Lydia had been talking about their perfect prom ensembles and Scott had mentioned, vaguely, that there was somebody he hoped to take. Erica should’ve realized Scott meant Allison, but she was too busy thinking about Stiles. All she did was let her eyes flicker in Stiles’s direction. He was sprawled out on the floor, his legs on the couch, but he looked at her too and smiled, and they both knew they were going together after that.

After that, they just started mentioning it matter-of-factly, talking about what they’d wear and where they’d go to dinner and how Sheriff Stilinski would want to take a million photographs. 

Just two weeks ago, Erica had rolled her eyes at Stiles’s eighty layers of clothing and told him she had to go shopping with him for his tux, there was no way around it. They’d been taking a walk, Erica on the sidewalk and Stiles on the curb. He had pretended to be offended, saying it had only been a few years ago when she didn’t know how to dress herself either, and she had pushed him. Her push was light and playful, but Stiles lost his balance anyway. She caught him in her arms, and then they were frozen there, her holding him up. Erica tried not to get carried away in that feeling of potential, of tension, but it was there. It was so there. 

And then Stiles was saying, “Watch the werewolf claws. Sheesh,” and she noticed that she had clawed out, just a little. She let him go. Her claws had left little indents in his sweatshirt, and he had said, “And you wonder why I wear all the layers!” 

Everyone else knew they’d been planning on going together too. Jackson kept telling Stiles that Erica was a good dancer, he could remember that even though he had been—well, what Jackson termed as “impaired.” “There’s no way you’re ready for it, Stilinski,” Jackson had said. Lydia glared a lot during that conversation. Erica mostly kept thinking: Don’t blush. 

Now what?

Erica couldn’t not go. This was her senior year. This was prom. And, judging by the “VOTE FOR ERICA” pins she had seen on some backpacks that morning, she could potentially be prom queen. 

She used to think about prom a lot, and how she would love to go to prom but there was no way a boy would ever go with her. That had all changed after the bite, or so she thought. Now prom was on the horizon and she had no date, and the idea of going with whatever random guy asked her held no appeal at all. Not when she was going to think about Stiles all night.

She decided to go immediately to Isaac’s locker and ask him. 

“What do you mean, you’re going with someone?” Erica exclaimed. 

Isaac just shrugged. “I asked a girl I like in my history class.” 

“First off, if you like someone, you have to tell me, Isaac. That is the law. Also, I hate you and you’re ruining my life.”

“Go with Boyd.”

“But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because why?”

Her mouth hung open in shock. “I’m not going to ask my ex-boyfriend to take me to prom! That’s pathetic.” 

“Well,” Isaac’s tone was a bit lighter now, mischievous, “you could always…”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” Erica said, crossing her arms.

“You know what? I bet Derek never went to a prom before.” Isaac full-out smirked.

So then she went to Boyd…who, of course, also had a date. Erica was pretty much convinced her life was falling apart. 

“I’m sorry, Erica. But someone asked me and I thought you were going with Stiles so-”

“Don’t apologize, Boyd. You have every right to go to the prom with someone.” 

“I know that. You just look sad, and I don’t like it.” 

Erica sighed. Boyd had been such a good boyfriend. Why couldn’t she just have stayed with Boyd? Whatever girl he was taking to prom was going to have a great time, and she wasn’t even sure she was going at this point.

“Not too big of a fan of it myself.” She shrugged, then tried to put on a happier face. “I’m sure I’ll work something out.”

“Plenty of people are going to ask you, you know.” 

“I know.”

“But I guess not the person you want. You’ve always been hung up on him, haven’t you?” Boyd said, without even a hint of bitterness to his voice. “Since we first met, even.”

Erica gulped. She had never meant to make Boyd feel that way when they were together. In fact, the first time she and Boyd kissed, she had thought any feelings she had for Stiles were dead and gone—or, if not already dead and gone, killed in that moment, by the way Boyd’s mouth felt on hers, by his hands in her hair, by the gentle way he cupped her face. 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“It’ll be okay, Erica.” 

Boyd always had this way of making Erica feel safe, and so for a few seconds, after Boyd walked off, she felt warm and okay, she really did, until she realized taking Derek did seem preferable to the any of the multitudes of Beacon Hills High School guys and girls who would be clamoring for her as a prom date. That made her feel a bit uneasy.

\--

Stiles and Scott were eating lunch together in the cafeteria when Lydia triumphantly slapped a flyer onto Stiles’s sandwich. She was grinning and Jackson was next to her, looking smug. “Rude,” Stiles muttered, before getting a look at the flyer. 

Prom.

He had been so focused on the fact that Erica planned on never talking to him again that he had totally forgotten that he and Erica were supposed to go to prom together.

“Is this supposed to be a joke? I don’t need further evidence of my life being in shambles.”

“No. Prom—this is your chance,” Lydia said. 

“Pretty sure Erica would rip off my head if I even suggested that we still go together.”

Lydia and Jackson shared, Can you believe this idiot?, looks, which deeply offended all of Stiles’s sensibilities, mostly because Jackson shouldn’t get to react to him like that, of all people. 

“You don’t ask her, moron. You go. She goes.” He raised his eyebrows, as if that were enough explanation. 

“Are you getting this?” Stiles said to Scott. “I’m not getting this.”

Lydia sighed. “You hurt Erica’s pride, Stiles. And you know where the perfect place is to make up for that? Prom.” She grabbed Stiles by the shoulder and, with her other hand, made a broad, sweeping gesture. “Imagine it, okay? All the seniors are there. There’s that big stage. You get up there. And you say that you have something to confess, and then you say that Erica is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen—me excepted, but, you know, don’t mention that—and that you hurt her and you’re sorry, and then-”

“First off, I don’t want to date Erica, so if that’s how you’re approaching this little plan, you better rethink it.”

Lydia and Jackson did that matching facial expression thing again, except this time it was skeptical looks. With his peripheral vision, Stiles caught Scott with a similar expression.

“Also, that’s the stupidest plan ever,” Stiles added. “I can’t just rush the stage.” 

“You can steal a police van and kidnap me but you can’t walk onto a stage in the Beacon Hills gym during a dance?” Jackson said scathingly. 

“The details are irrelevant,” Lydia continued. “The point is, you go to prom. She goes to prom. You do something, Stiles. But it has to be public. It has to be a display. I know it sounds stupid, but Erica’s going to love it, okay? She wouldn’t say it but she wants a special prom. I know she does. Make it special, and you’re golden.” 

“Trust us,” Jackson said.

“Also, you might want to help out with this.” Lydia pinned an ERICA FOR PROM QUEEN button to Stiles’s plaid shirt.

“Erica’s running for prom queen?”

“You don’t run. You get nominated. And don’t act all surprised, Stiles! You know how popular Erica is now, especially since her scary level’s gone down from terrifying to intriguingly intimidating.” Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It should be good having some actual competition.”

“Yeah,” Jackson agreed. “I only have Scott.”

Scott sneered at Jackson before exclaiming, “Wait! I’m nominated?!”

“How do you two manage to survive at this school?” Jackson drew Lydia closer to him. “Are we done with our act of charity for the week now?”

She rolled her eyes but snuggled closer to Jackson.

“Ignore anything I said before. I really am only doing this for Erica,” Jackson said, throwing a disdainful look at Stiles, before they walked off towards another table. 

When Stiles looked over at Scott, he was staring at the pin on Stiles’s chest. Stiles looked down at the pin and noticed it was a particularly…cleavage-y shot of Erica. He wondered if she was even aware that this campaign was happening. He had seen these underclassmen girls handing out flyers with Lydia’s face on them earlier, and he was pretty sure they had never spoken to Lydia before. 

“Can you stop?”

Scott blinked. “Yeah. So, uh, what do you think? About prom?”

Stiles had actually been looking forward to prom a lot. He wanted to go to dinner with Erica. He wanted his dad taking pictures. He wanted her in a fancy dress and him in some stupid tux and he wanted to take her in his Jeep. He wanted to spend the night with his hands on her waist and her head on his shoulder. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure how he had initially thought he was going to survive it. Getting that close to being Erica’s boyfriend…and then…not.

Now he only dreaded prom. He wasn’t too keen on going up and making a speech about Erica. Not that he had any problem making a fool of himself usually, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to find any words to make things better. He figured if he went up to apologize, he would probably only end up harping on why they couldn’t be together but why they should still be friends and then, eventually, the reasons they couldn’t be together wouldn’t even be for Erica. It would just be him desperately trying to talk to himself out of the truth which was…yeah, he wanted to be Erica Reyes’s boyfriend.

Still, even if he chickened out of any grand plans, it would be worth it to go. Especially if Erica won prom queen, which was a real possibility since Lydia’s popularity never fully recovered after the quite justifiable breakdowns of sophomore year. Erica would appreciate it a lot, he knew that. Of course she’d never say it, but it would all be there in her smile.

“I think I’m going,” Stiles said, “and I want you to be my date, buddy. Come on, matching tuxes. It would be cute.”

“I have a date,” Scott said with a smile.

“How’s that going, by the way?”

Scott suddenly paled. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“What? Why not? You’re not making me feel bad, really. I know things suck with Erica, but just-”

“I told Derek we stopped seeing each other.”

“You what?”

“You told me to make up with Derek! So I told him Allison and I were over.”

“And you think he won’t find out?”

Scott shrugged. “I was hoping things with you and Erica would be good again by that point and then you two could fix it.”

“The most mature approach to conflict I’ve ever heard. Scott McCall, everyone. Round of applause.” Stiles started doing a sarcastic round of applause when Scott grabbed Stiles’s hands. 

“You won’t tell Derek, will you?”

“Why would I tell Derek? You’re my best friend.” 

Scott smiled and got back to his lunch. Then a strange thought occurred to Stiles. “Um, hey, who do you think Erica’s going to go to prom with? Isaac and Boyd both have dates.” 

“You don’t really think she’d go with Derek?” Scott said.

Stiles was pretty sure they were both imagining Derek in a tux, holding a corsage, taking awkward prom photos. 

“No, she wouldn’t,” Stiles assured himself. 

\--

“Not possible,” Derek declared. He wouldn’t even look at Erica, as she stood there, practically pleading with him in the entryway to the kitchen. Instead he kept stirring some pasta on the stove.

Erica had headed directly over to Derek’s after school because she had to bring it up while she still had the nerve—also, while she hadn’t thought too long about the possibility of Derek at a prom. 

“What does that even mean?”

“I can’t go to prom with you, Erica. I just can’t.”

“But everyone already thinks you’re a creeper anyway!” Erica dramatically threw her hands in the air.

“It’s not that. And I’m not a creeper. I’m a-” 

“Responsible Alpha who needs to monitor high-risk areas and keep an eye on us and blah, blah, blah. The point is, the way you drive me to school and stuff, half the school probably thinks we’re doing it anyway.”

He shuddered. “You have to work on your persuasion skills. Anyway, there are a ton of people you could go with.”

“Yeah, but they’ll all be scared of me the whole night and that won’t be any fun. Come on, it’s my senior prom. Don’t I deserve to have a little fun?”

Erica’s stomach dropped because she realized what she had said. Didn’t she deserve to have fun? She was saying that to Derek Hale, who probably had one of the top five least fun lives in history—or, at the very least, the least fun life in Beacon Hills. His senior year of high school, he was on the run from hunters with his older sister, and the rest of his family was dead. No prom for him, presumably. But he wasn’t going to call her out for her attitude. He finally turned around and looked at her. After sighing, he asked, “You really would have more fun with me than some guy from school?”

She pictured him sulking all night, and while it wasn’t exactly the most fun image, she figured she could at least get some amusement from teasing him. If she could get him into his sarcastic stride, the whole thing could actually prove quite amusing. They could sit back and make cracks together about the stupidity of prom and the kids at Beacon Hills—until, of course, she was called on stage for possible crowning as prom queen, which nobody was to joke about, at all, because it was stupid but it was prom queen and it was superficial and meaningless but she was allowed to want something superficial and meaningless every once and a while. Not that it was the most important thing in the world or anything. But she did want to win, she couldn’t help it.

Erica nodded at him. 

He sighed. “This is what I get, isn’t it? For biting a bunch of teenagers? This is my punishment.”

Erica grinned because he was totally giving in. “You really should’ve thought about that.” Then she squealed. “Ooh, this is great because my dress is black and it’ll match the Camaro!” 

Derek just turned back to his pasta, shaking his head and muttering something about how he was going to regret this.


	5. Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where’s Stiles?” They all looked at her blankly, and she said, this time with more ferocity, “Where. Is. Stiles?” 
> 
> Nobody answered her. She looked to Scott. “You have to know, how can you not know?”
> 
> Scott shrugged.
> 
> “He’s always here on time. Nobody thought to question that?”
> 
> “Maybe,” Lydia said gently, “we all just assumed he wasn’t showing up because of a certain situation with a certain blonde she-wolf.”

Lydia dragged Stiles to Macy’s to pick out a tuxedo because, if the plan was going to go off without a hitch, Stiles had to look perfect. Stiles said Erica was probably more concerned with him groveling than with what he was wearing. Lydia shook her head and said, “Statements like that are why your love life is in shambles.”

He wanted to respond that, no, his love life was in shambles because, well, he was Stiles, and also that the girl he was interested in was a werewolf and he lacked the psychological fortitude to handle her being in constant danger. Also, who was Lydia to judge his love life anyway? Because, seriously, she was dating Jackson.

Lydia had become quite good at sensing when Stiles was going to get sassy with her and said, “Stiles, I don’t want to hear it,” before shoving more clothes into his arms and pushing him towards the dressing room.

The next hour was spent with Lydia dismissing everything he tried on, even though she had picked everything out.

“None of this is working,” she said when he came out in the last tuxedo. “We’re going to have to go somewhere else.”

Stiles groaned. “Can we stop for today, though? We’re going to be late.”

“Late for what?” Lydia said innocently—almost too innocently.

“The pack meeting.”

“Oh yeah, that.”

Stiles looked at his watch. “We should leave now if we don’t want to be maimed by Derek.”

“He would be dead if he so much as put a paw on me,” Lydia replied.

Stiles looked at her insistently. The last thing he wanted to do was give any credibility to Erica’s view that he took the pack lightly and was just going to leave them behind.

“Fine,” she said, “but this weekend you are going shopping with Jackson.”

Stiles groaned, predicting that would land somewhere in the top five most miserable experiences of his life. And that was saying something since he had accumulated way too many miserable experiences for an eighteen-year-old high school senior.

On their way out of the mall, Lydia made Stiles stop at a boutique, even though Stiles kept rattling off the time as reminders that they would be late. “Just a few minutes,” she kept saying.

Stiles had a feeling Lydia was up to something since she was never late.

When they’d finally driven up to Derek’s apartment complex, Lydia looked down at her phone and said, “Oops, Jackson texted and asked if we could bring food.”

“Too bad,” Stiles answered as he reached for his door handle.

“You think Derek isn’t going to maim you more if he’s hungry and you do not bring pizza as requested?”

“What do you mean ‘you’?” Stiles squinted at her, suspicious.

Lydia smiled. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?” She grabbed a pen and jotted down the pizza order on his hand. Then she kissed his cheek, said, “Thanks, hon,” and left him sitting in her car, the key in the ignition.

He grumbled to himself as he got into the driver’s seat and, for some stupid reason, ignored that niggling sense of dread.

\--

Erica was always late to pack meetings when they fell on Thursdays because Thursday was the day that Craft Club met after school. She was Vice President. After realizing that the whole werewolf thing had sent her rage levels to all-time highs (and they had been pretty high before, considering the brutality of the Beacon Hills High School environment), she started seeking out activities that calmed her. The only things that worked were Craft Club and leisurely swims. She had tried to swim with Jackson for a while as part of pack bonding, but he always wanted to race and kept making snarky comments about her technique so that hadn’t lasted so long. Craft Club, thankfully, was her very own domain—no other pack members allowed.

None of them were allowed to mock it, or even mention it, when she showed up late. Derek had made that much clear after realizing how much nicer Erica was when she had a creative outlet.

When she walked into Derek’s apartment, Boyd, Isaac, Scott, Jackson, and Lydia were all situated around the living room. Derek was absent, and Erica was relieved to note, so was Stiles. She thought of sitting in his bean bag chair because it looked comfortable, but it would remind her of his existence way too much.

“We haven’t started yet?” Erica asked as she sat on the floor and leaned against Isaac’s legs.

“Um, Erica, we have a bit of a problem,” Jackson said.

She turned around. All of them looked nervous. Smelled it, too.

“What?”

“Derek is out trying to handle it,” Boyd said.

“What’s the problem?”

They all exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Erica didn’t like it at all. They wouldn’t be acting this way over something little. She was starting to panic.

“There’s a threat,” Scott said in a level voice.

She wanted to punch him for sounding so calm. She wanted to punch them all for being so vague, so slow.

“There’s a new kind of shape shifter in town,” Lydia continued. “It can shift into different human forms.”

“And it wants something to do with us? To hurt us?”

“No, we all look like worried wrecks right now because we’re gonna be BFFS with it forever,” Jackson said.

Lydia kicked him.

“Ow,” Jackson said.

“The forever part was redundant, babe."

“So what you’re saying is we’re in danger,” Erica said.

“Basically,” answered Isaac.

Then there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Where’s Stiles?” They all looked at her blankly, and she said, this time with more ferocity, “Where. Is. Stiles?”

Nobody answered her. She looked to Scott. “You have to know, how can you not know?”

Scott shrugged.

“He’s always here on time. Nobody thought to question that?”

“Maybe,” Lydia said gently, “we all just assumed he wasn’t showing up because of a certain situation with a certain blonde she-wolf.”

Erica considered that briefly. Maybe he was just sitting at home in his room playing a video game or surfing the net and thinking about how Erica was reacting to him not being there. But she knew Stiles was more determined than that. Now that she had practically given him her blessing to keep showing up at pack activities (even if she had followed it up with “Don’t talk to me.”), there was no way he would just casually not show up.

“Something’s wrong. Something happened,” Erica told them.

“Derek told us to stay here,” Isaac said.

“And since when do any of us do what we’re told to do?!” Erica exclaimed.

She looked at all of them for support, but they were gazing at their laps.

“Come on, this is Stiles. None of you care enough to do anything? Did you even call him to see if he was okay?”

“His phone battery died today in school,” Scott said.

“Anyway, I’m sure he’s fine,” Lydia offered. “Derek is handling the shape shifter, and Stiles is probably at home, and we just have to wait here and-”

At that moment, Erica hated all of them. There was no way Stiles was fine. No way. And there was no way she was just going to sit around hoping that he was. “Then I’ll do this by myself,” Erica said. She started dialing Stiles’s number and rushed out the door.

\--

Of course Lydia’s car ran out of gas before he could even get into town and buy Pizza Hut. That was just the type of day it was turning out to be. And he couldn’t even call anyone since his phone battery died earlier during school (although he swore his phone had been almost fully charged before gym class). There was always the option of walking to the gas station, but that was so far and he was exhausted from shopping with Lydia. He was tempted to lie on the grass by the road until some kindly stranger offered to drive him into town.

Though…knowing his luck, a kindly stranger was bound to be some sort of supernatural creature that wanted to ruin his, or his friends’, lives. He was betting on some sort of merman or woman with the capacity to also walk on land. That could be interesting, Stiles thought.

After a few minutes, a teenage girl, probably a bit younger than him, pulled her car alongside Lydia’s. Stiles was leaning against the passenger side door, looking glum.

“Car trouble?” she said with a flirty smile.

She didn’t look familiar. He wondered if she went to his school. Also, if she had fins.

“Out of gas,” he said. “But full of chronic laziness.”

“Need a lift?”

“It depends on how likely you are to murder me.”

“Um, not likely?”

He looked at her, and for some reason, though this whole day reeked like something ominous, he really thought she was just a teenage girl offering him a ride to the gas station. Derek would probably kill him for accepting a ride from a stranger, but the whole pack was going to kill him anyway for not getting the pizza there fast enough.

“Then sure, why not?” Stiles said. “Thanks.” And he got into her car.

\--

After realizing Stiles’s phone really was dead and getting no response at Stiles’s home number, Erica stopped quickly at her house and grabbed the sweatshirt Stiles had forgotten there a few weeks ago. She had never said anything to him about it because she liked knowing it was there. It seemed couple-y. Though she knew Stiles’s scent, having the sweatshirt still helped. She breathed it in and tried to focus on finding, not feeling, not panicking, not liking, just finding, finding and keeping safe.

Werewolf instinct turned out to be good for something since Erica, sweatshirt in her lap for reference, was able to drive, sniff for Stiles, and make sharp turns when the scent commanded without crashing into anyone. Her sense of smell seemed sharper than it had ever been. Derek had trained them on how to track someone, of course, but it had never come this easily.

Sooner than she ever could’ve hoped, there he was, standing outside a gas station with some young brunette whose hand was on his arm, and she felt sure that this person was it—the threat. They were after Stiles, and Erica would be after her, and nothing was going to happen to him. Nothing.

She cut out another car for a parking spot and ran out of the car towards Stiles.

“Erica!” Stiles said.

She grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pulled him towards her, checking for any injuries, any signs of supernatural….something. He was okay. He really was. He was looking at her like she was crazy but he was okay. She pressed her nose to his neck and breathed in his scent, just in case she was missing something. The girl’s smell wasn’t all over him. He smelled fine. Healthy. It was going to be okay. She’d make sure it was okay.

“Um, Erica, want to tell me what’s going on?”

She let go. “Get in the car.”

“What?”

“Get in the car,” Erica practically barked. “Now.”

The brunette stared at her, open-mouthed. “You might want to get your girlfriend in check.”

Erica spun to face her. “You do not touch him. Understand me? Go after me. I don’t care, okay? I’m sure what you want is a wolf, anyway. Go after me, and leave Stiles alone, because I don’t care how powerful you are. I am being very serious right now when I say that I will kill you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” the girl replied.

She looked—and smelled—genuinely frightened, and Erica, for a moment, wondered if maybe this was just a regular girl, not whatever shape shifter Derek was supposedly out handling.

Stiles looked from Erica to the brunette. “Oh crap, she really is a mermaid or something, isn’t she?”

“Stiles, get in the car or so help me, I will kill you too!”

Stiles was stubbornly not moving.

“Seriously, I don’t know what either of you two is on about. I was just helping a guy who ran out of gas,” the brunette said.

Erica concentrated very hard on the tick of her heart. She wasn’t lying.

Crap.

“I’m calling the cops,” the girl added.

She whipped out a cell phone and began dialing, and Erica wanted to vomit because it was clear this girl was not a threat and that she had overreacted. But…in the moment it hadn’t felt like an overreaction at all. It felt reasonable. To protect Stiles—at all costs.

“I—I’m sorry. I think we had a misunderstanding,” Erica said.

But the girl was already reporting that she was being threatened.

Stiles smiled tentatively at Erica. “Good thing my dad’s the sheriff, huh?” Erica was tempted to yell at him again to get in the car.

\--

They were in the backseat of Sheriff Stilinski’s cop car. Sheriff Stilinski had managed to calm the brunette down and convince her that he would take care of Erica and that she wouldn’t ever be bothered again.

“I can’t believe you two. Wolves? Mermaids?” Sheriff Stilinski questioned. “Really?”

“Role playing,” Stiles said, “is very big with the kids these days.”

Erica paled. As if Sheriff Stilinski’s view of her wasn’t already ruined by the fact that she randomly threatened someone’s life.

“Erica, do you care to explain any of this?”

“I thought…um, I thought she was going to hurt Stiles.”

Stiles glared at her, which she should’ve expected. Stiles’s whole life was built around carefully hiding from his father the fact that he was constantly endangered by the supernatural.

“Or, uh, I was jealous,” she said. “They were…kissing, and I was jealous. I…I couldn’t really control what I was saying, Mr. Stilinski, or at least, that’s what it felt like. I know I shouldn’t have said it and I’m so sorry. I just….I wasn’t thinking straight.”

She looked over at Stiles who was looking at her with this serious expression, but he looked away as soon as their eyes met.

“And how did the wolves and mermaids come into play?”

“Dad, do I have to explain this to you? I’m the wolf, Erica’s the mermaid, what more do you need to know?”

Erica already felt degraded enough by her other lies; she was not going to let this stand. “Excuse me, I’m the wolf, you’re the merman.”

“Okay, okay,” Sheriff Stilinski said. “We can stop there.”

Then Stiles laughed, and though Erica didn’t want to laugh around him, especially not now, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing too. And there they were, together, laughing in the back seat—like friends. And she ached because she missed it, missed this, missed Stiles and his laugh even if they would never have anything more than that.

She didn’t want to keep him at a distance anymore.

He was too important. Even if he didn’t want her back the way she wanted him.

“Because I know you’re a good kid, I’m just going to take this as a once-in-a-lifetime slip-up, alright, Erica? Mostly because I’m too exhausted and horrified as a parent to delve any further into this.”

She let out the last few giggles into her palm, and straining to sound serious, said, “Thank you so much. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Should I drop you off at home, Erica?”

“Dad, do you mind if I just walk Erica home? We need to talk,” Stiles said.

“In English or in Elvish?” Sheriff Stilinski cracked.

“Come on, Dad. What type of people do you think we are? Elves are not in our repertoire.”

“Well, excuse me,” he said as he rolled to a stop.

\--

“So want to tell me what all that was really about?” Stiles asked, once Sheriff Stilinski had passed them. They were walking together on the sidewalk, close enough that their hands might touch, though both were taking care that didn’t happen.

Erica explained that there was some shape shifter on the loose, that she hadn’t gotten all of the details because Stiles hadn’t been there and she had to make sure he was okay, how everyone had been infuriatingly vague and indifferent.

“Wait, Lydia was there? And she didn’t say that I went to get pizza?”

“Uh, no, she just said that you weren’t coming probably.”

Stiles shook his head. “I can’t believe they’d do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make all of that up.”

“What? They couldn’t have. They wouldn’t have. It was everyone. Well, everyone but Derek. Why would they-”

“To get us talking. Lydia made me late when we were shopping and then she told me to go get the pizza and I’m sure she made certain her gas tank would run out, and someone must’ve fiddled with my phone earlier. Wow, I want to murder all of them.”

“You want to murder all of them? I was the one who thought you were in danger!”

“Well,” Stiles quipped, “that wouldn’t be anything new.”

“Doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

“Trust me. I know.”

They both were quiet for a minute.

“Can we-” Erica started. “I mean, would you mind if we-”

“Yeah?”

“I’m saying…I want to be friends again.”

Stiles was grinning. “Really? You’re caving now? I had this whole apology speech planned. Note cards and everything.”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of handing those over. A Stiles Stilinski apology deserves to be laminated,” she said. “Anyway, it’s just—everything seemed so stupid when I thought you were in trouble, you know? It’s not worth it to not be your friend.”

Erica’s voice was a bit shaky, like she was reliving something, and she was looking down at the sidewalk. Stiles wondered why he had never thought about it that much before—that Erica was as afraid of losing him as he was of her.

Yet that hadn’t stopped her from making a move. It hadn’t stopped her from wanting to be with him. Stiles had this sense that she was better than him. Healthier than him. At the very least, she was braver. Which was something he was pretty sure he always should’ve realized.

He tugged at her arm, and her intake of breath was loud and sharp. It still didn’t make sense to him—that him touching her could impact her like that. He was Stiles. Never-been-kissed-and-a-senior-in-high-school Stiles. And she was Erica Reyes who was bold and beautiful and confident who had no reason to gasp when he, of all people, touched her. He hesitated, then pulled her into a hug. She was stiff for a second before relaxing in his arms and holding onto him.

He wished they could stay that way—hugging, nothing else intruding. It felt so normal, and the idea of them being together felt so possible when they were like that, and he thought, if he kept holding her any longer, he might just kiss her.

“So…do you want to go threaten murder for the second time today?” he asked.

She laughed and broke the hug. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

\--

Erica had been shouting at the pack for five minutes, with Stiles interjecting every few seconds to call them all idiots, when she realized Lydia was smirking.

“Lydia, I would suggest wiping that look of your face before I force it off.”

Jackson said, “Ooh,” in a quiet voice. Lydia just continued smirking. “We were just trying to help, and it looks like we helped.” She gestured to the pair of them—Erica and Stiles, standing close to each other.

“You still had no right!”

“Stiles asked for our help,” Lydia said.

Erica glared at Stiles.

“Hey, no, we had other plans,” Stiles said. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“Keep you in the dark?” Lydia said with a smile. She always positively glowed whenever she could use the incidents of sophomore year as leverage, even if she was still bitter and broken over them. “Sometimes it’s for your own good.”

“I don’t even understand how I couldn’t tell you were lying. I’m a werewolf!” Erica sighed.

“Well, we had Lydia do most of it,” Boyd said. “She felt the least guilty and she’s so good at being fake that it registers more truthfully, no offense, Lydia.”

“None taken,” she replied. She added, matter-of-factly, “Plus, panic was bound to either sharpen your werewolf senses or frazzles them, and yours were frazzled, dear.”

“No, they weren’t! I tracked Stiles perfectly!”

“In that case, as soon as you were worried about Stiles, your senses and instinct hyper-focused on that and couldn’t be bothered to pick up on our lies. You can’t possibly blame us for Stiles doing things to your senses.”

Erica looked over her shoulder at Stiles. “You might want to hold me back from actually committing murder today.”

“I’m probably not the best person for that job because I’m also really considering it.” He turned towards Scott. “I could expect this from everyone else, but you, man? You’re my best friend!”

Scott pouted. “I—if you only—they were very persuasive.”

“Come on,” Isaac said. “Both of you were really miserable. I get that we were wrong, but we just wanted you to be happy. Forgive us?”

Erica was about to start ranting about how disappointed she was in Isaac when Derek walked into the room. There was a collective cheer at the stack of pizzas in Derek’s arms; even Stiles put his aside his anger for a moment to say, “Ooh, do you have pepperoni?”

Erica, however, snapped, “Were you in on this too?”

“In on what?” He put his pizza down. “I was just talking to Melissa. She was really worried about college stuff for Scott, and everybody said they didn’t mind pushing back the meeting a little. Didn’t they tell you?”

“You got your mother in on this?!” Stiles cried in Scott’s direction.

“In on what?” Derek repeated.

“She really was worried about college stuff. I may just have told her Derek would be free at this time,” Scott said guiltily.

“Anyone care to fill me in?” Derek set the pizza down on the ground.

“I’d be happy to,” Erica said before launching into the whole story.

The pack, which had mostly just been uncomfortable rather than terrified, started to pale as Erica informed Derek. Though they were used to Derek now, that didn’t change that he could be downright terrifying if he really, really wanted to be, and messing with Erica made him really, really want to be. Even Lydia was clutching Jackson’s hand.

“Okay, well, you two don’t worry about it. I’m going to handle this.” He reached down and grabbed the stack of pizzas, then handed them to Erica. “Take these.”

“What?” Isaac said.

Boyd elbowed him to shut up.

“You think I’m rewarding you all with pizza after a stunt like that? Nope, Stiles and Erica are getting the pizza. All of the pizza. For the rest of eternity. You two go eat, and I’m going to take care of this, alright?” Derek squeezed Erica’s shoulder before turning toward the rest of the pack.

Erica led Stiles into the kitchen where they arranged the pizzas on the table and tried to tune out Derek’s loud lecture (though all the snippets Erica heard did fill her with glee).

“Time to divide them,” said Stiles, rubbing his hands together, after he had opened all the boxes.

“I’m calling Scott’s.” Erica grabbed the box of extra cheesy pan pizza from the middle of the table and took a slice out of it.

“Not fair!”

“Hey, I dealt with more trauma than you today. I deserve this.”

He smiled. “Fair enough. But if you get Scott’s, you also get Jackson’s.”

Erica groaned. “Olives on thin crust is the most pretentious pizza order in the world.” Stiles shoved it towards her side of the table anyway. She dramatically plopped into a chair. “Fine, I’ll take it.”

Stiles sat down and started on Isaac’s pizza with anchovies. His mouth was full as he said, “I really don’t feel bad about this at all.”

“As we shouldn’t,” Erica said. “I hate all of them with a fiery passion.”

“Here, here!” said Stiles. “As long as it’s not me!”

She rolled her eyes and wanted to say that she never hated him, she probably never could hate him, that it was a problem. But she was glad for not hating him right now. She was glad to be here eating way too much pizza in Derek’s kitchen. She was glad that her enjoyment of that was bigger and brighter than the torturous knowledge that he’d reject her if she reached for his hand, like she really, really wanted to do.

Pizza hanging out of his mouth, Stiles grabbed their usual sodas from the refrigerator and poured Erica hers, a Mountain Dew, and his, a Doctor Pepper. He was about to say something when he set Erica’s drink in front of her, but fell quiet at the sound of stomping in the living room.

In a raised voice, Lydia said, “I’m not going to sit here and be spoken to like I’m a child! We did them a favor! They’re practically on a date right now!”

Erica almost choked on her soda.

“You alright?” Stiles asked. He almost put his hand on hers when he said it, but he stopped himself.

She nodded, and he said maybe they should put on some music, to block out the noise. Erica told him that was a good idea. They bickered over radio stations until Stiles gave up and let Erica choose. She picked a pop station that Stiles said was terrible, but they both ended up bopping their heads to the music and belting out to Rihanna and Katy Perry.

Stiles tried not to take it as a bad omen that he actually thought Erica’s singing voice, which the whole pack and Erica herself acknowledged as terrible, sounded pretty during love songs.


	6. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica had the sense that everyone was being cautious, which was a little odd. They shouldn’t have to be so cautious around each other…though, she guessed her whole little incident with Stiles proved the opposite of that. 
> 
> Isaac, who was on her left, asked her, “Truth or dare?”
> 
> Erica didn’t even have to think about it. “Dare.” Her answer was always dare.

Everything seemed right with the world. Stiles and Erica were friends again, and they had even forgiven the pack, once assured that they had sufficiently faced Derek’s wrath.

They still weren’t going to prom together. Neither of them discussed it, but both were sure that putting themselves in that situation would still be a bit tense. Instead, Stiles mentioned whenever he could how excited he was to see Derek in a tuxedo. Derek threw things at him a few times, and Erica tried not to giggle too much.

Still, Stiles felt like something was wrong. Something was still lacking. He told himself he was just imagining it and that he wouldn’t spend the whole pack sleepover worrying, that the night would be fine. 

Not that it really mattered if it would or wouldn’t go fine. It was Scott’s idea. He had to go.

After Derek had stopped lecturing the pack and Stiles and Erica had ate themselves sick, Scott led a group apology to Stiles and Erica that had culminated in bouncing up and down in excitement over their reconciliation and inviting the entire pack over to his house for a celebratory sleepover. Derek had groaned and Jackson and Lydia exchanged iffy expressions, but Boyd and Isaac had been down for it immediately. Erica had shrugged at Stiles, ready to follow his lead, and Scott looked so enthusiastic and apologetic that Stiles had to agree.

When Stiles drove up to Scott’s house, Derek’s Camaro was already in the driveway. He laughed to himself. A part of him was still used to Derek showing up uninvited in Scott’s bedroom. But Scott and Derek were friends now…sort of. Friends who were at odds a lot of the times and reminded Stiles of an annoying on-and-off couple, but still…

Stiles parked the Jeep in front of the sidewalk and let himself inside with the key he had made. 

Melissa McCall was the first person he saw. She was on the steps and looked frantic. “Stiles, can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Melissa normally would say something sarcastic about Stiles inviting himself in and their need for better security, so Stiles knew something was up. “Yeah, sure.” 

“What are the chances of this getting out of control?”

“Huh?”

“The idea of hosting a coed sleepover is kind of pushing my boundaries as a parent, but a coed sleepover with a pack of werewolves, one of whom is a grown man—”

He laughed. “You really consider Derek a grown man?”

“You get my point, Stiles. You’re…well, you’re human. Give it to me straight. I don’t want to break Scott’s heart, but I also don’t want my whole house damaged, and if I need to call this off-”

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles assured her. 

He heard the sound of Erica’s laughter in the living room, and he was suddenly itching to end this conversation and join his friends. 

“If they get near anything nice, I’ll just throw a raw steak in their direction and distract them. Problem solved.” 

Derek appeared behind him and pressed his hands down on Stiles’s shoulders. “We can hear you, Stiles.” He added, smiling charmingly at Melissa, “Please don’t worry about it. I know how to keep them in line. And no, uh, funny business will happen, I guarantee it.”

Melissa was blushing, and Stiles wanted to vomit on Scott’s behalf, because seriously, whenever Derek utilized his flirty moves on Melissa, it was grade A creepy. 

“The grown man thing…It’s…you know I trust you, Derek, and I’m so glad that you’ve been looking out for Scott. It’s just, a sleepover? It’s a bit-”

“Weird. I know. If you’d rather me leave…”

Melissa laughed. “No, stay, Derek. It means a lot to Scott that you’re here.” 

Scott groaned from the living room. “Mom!”

“Sorry, Scott!” she called. “You all enjoy yourselves. I need to get to the hospital. I’m expecting the house in one piece when I get back.”

Melissa was still blushing when she passed within a few inches of Derek. Stiles rolled his eyes, but Derek still looked pretty pleased with himself. 

“Funny business?” Stiles said.

Derek blushed a little, then countered with, “Raw steak?”

The pair entered the living room. Erica was sitting on the couch, high heeled feet on the coffee table. Boyd and Isaac had already set up sleeping bags next to each other and were bent over some comic book. Only recently had Isaac managed to get Boyd to look at comic books, but Boyd had taken to them zealously. Scott was sitting cross-legged on the floor looking embarrassed. Stiles hoped for Scott’s sake that Derek didn’t bring up Melissa’s comment. 

He didn’t, though he did look a bit smug as he sat down next to Erica on the couch.

Erica was smiling at Stiles warmly. Stiles wished she didn’t look so obviously glad to see him. 

“So, buddy,” Stiles said, turning to Scott, “what’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“It’s up in the air, mostly. Lydia’s bringing movies, I think.”

Erica groaned. “If it’s some sappy romance…”

Isaac looked up from his comic book long enough to say, “You cried when we all watched A Walk to Remember.” 

“Not as much as you,” Erica said, smirking. “Come on, I don’t want to just sit around watching something. That’s what we always do. Can’t we do something a bit more…interesting?”

“Interesting for this group usually involves someone almost dying and scales. I’ll pass,” Stiles said as he plopped onto the couch next to Erica. 

She moved just a little, to give him space. Which really wasn’t something so out of the ordinary. He shouldn’t have even noticed it. But he did. Before everything had happened, she wouldn’t have done that. It stung a little. 

“What do you have in mind?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, sleepover games. Truth or Dare?”

Derek groaned. “Don’t we know enough about each other?”

“Never enough about you,” Erica answered. “It would be fun.”

“We could, uh, play Spin the Bottle,” Isaac said. 

Stiles was pleased that everyone else looked as uncomfortable as he did. Well, except for Boyd, who shrugged nonchalantly and said, “Sure, why not?”

Erica leaned in Isaac’s direction. “Honey, I can help you practice later, but not on pack time.”

Isaac scowled. “I don’t need practice. Maybe you’re the one who’s a little rusty.” 

Derek was muttering to himself about how this was already going downhill, and Scot actually seemed frightened about the turn this would take. Stiles wanted to fade into the couch because he really didn’t want to hear anybody talking about being out-of-practice when the whole game was still foreign to him.

Before anyone else could be sarcastic or snarky—and Stiles was about to be, to overcompensate for the crippling awkwardness he was feeling—Scott declared, “No Spin the Bottle. Just no kissing, alright?”

“But Truth or Dare is fine?” Erica said.

Scott looked around at the group. His glance lingered on Derek. Stiles was sure Scott was thinking about how he told Derek things were over with Allison. Stiles wasn’t sure how Derek hadn’t seen through that immediately, but Scott said technically he was telling the truth. Things with Allison had not really restarted fully, anyway, because Allison had yet to say she loved him. Derek caught onto Scott’s worried glance and returned a suspicious one.

“Uh, yeah, that’s fine. I mean, if everyone wants to,” Scott said quickly before heading over to the front door. 

“You really want to play Truth or Dare?” Stiles said to Erica with a sigh.

Erica shrugged. “Yeah. What’s life without a little adventure?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I don’t trust you with Truth or Dare. You’re reckless.”

Erica smiled. “That’s part of my charm. And I’d be more worried for yourself.”

“Huh?”

“I have some pretty great dares in mind.” She quickly added, “Not anything, like, about us….you know.” 

Derek groaned quietly beside her, and she elbowed him in the side.

Stiles said, “Oh. Yeah. Of course not,” and looked over at Boyd and Isaac. He was pretty sure he had chosen the wrong seat. 

A few seconds later, Scott entered with Jackson and Lydia. Before anyone could so much as say hi, Jackson was declaring that he and Lydia would have to leave soon because they had places to be and also there was no way, on any universe ever, that he was going to be sleeping on the floor. Lydia, however, made it abundantly clear that it was her intention to stay, and stay for a while, as she put down a bag on the coffee table with a heavy clunk. She started pulling out what looked like her entire DVD collection. 

Stiles didn’t think any of the movies looked too terrible, and he much preferred the idea of a movie marathon to Truth or Dare. Though Erica wouldn’t dare to bring up their feelings for each other, someone else might, especially since everyone else thought they should be dating. 

After asking for everyone’s input, then promptly dismissing it, Lydia grabbed 13 Going On 30 and said, “This is the perfect sleepover movie. It’s lighthearted, escapist, and it inevitably gets everybody talking about how they imagine their life at thirty.” She handed the DVD to Scott who somehow managed to look surprised at Lydia taking complete control as always.

Meanwhile, Jackson had grabbed a spot on the recliner, resigned to Lydia’s movie choice.

“What happened to Truth or Dare?” Erica asked.

“Truth or Dare?” Lydia laughed. “What are we, 12?”

“Maybe later, Erica,” Scott said, sounding relieved.

She fixed him with a nasty glare that Stiles was glad not to have directed his way. Stiles was relieved, too. Relaxing and watching 13 Going on 30 would be much better than having to endure an awkward game of Truth or Dare where almost all the other players would be able to tell if he was lying.

Of course, that was his theory, anyway. 

But after a few minutes in Scott’s dark living room, he started wishing they were doing anything else.

He couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Instead, he noticed Lydia and Jackson all cozy together on the recliner, Lydia curled up in Jackson’s lap. Scott, Isaac, and Boyd were all lying together on the floor, with that no-personal-space ease that seemed to only come from being pack (Derek, of course, was removed from that equation). At various points, Stiles saw Scott and Isaac’s heads both resting on Boyd’s stomach, Isaac playing with Scott’s hair, and Boyd slumped against Isaac, his head on his shoulder. 

That just left Stiles, Erica, and Derek. 

Derek was used to being solitary, and it didn’t seem to bother at him all that he had nobody to cuddle as they watched. Stiles and Erica, meanwhile, tried not to look at each other too much or accidentally scoot towards each other. 

Some stupid internal voice was telling Stiles this wasn’t fair. His arm should be around her. Erica should be resting her head against his shoulder. They should be together. But it was his fault they were apart. He had no right to want anything besides this—this awkwardly platonic distance, sitting apart, watching a movie in the dark. 

“Erica, move,” Derek said in a low, gruff voice.

Stiles didn’t turn to look at Derek and Erica, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Erica lifting her head off of Derek’s shoulder. Apparently Erica had tried to get her cuddling elsewhere. She sighed and, without a word, got up and strutted into the kitchen. 

Derek stood up to go talk to her, but Lydia jumped off of Jackson’s lap and announced, “I’ve got this.”

Derek sat back down and glared at Stiles, which Stiles found awfully unfair, especially since Derek’s comment was what had sent Erica running off. Still, even Derek looking at him like he was the bad guy was less tense than having to sit next to Erica. He took a deep breath and started focusing on Mark Ruffalo. 

\--

Erica opened up all of Scott’s kitchen cabinets in attempts to find a suitable snack. She ended up just taking an apple off the counter. She bit at it viciously. Erica groaned at the sound of Lydia’s heels crossing the hardwood floor. She wasn’t sure if this would be better or worse than the talk from Derek she’d been expecting. 

Erica heaved herself up on the counter and sat. 

Lydia entered. Her hair was a bit messier than it had been when the movie started. Erica grimaced. She had seen Lydia and Jackson all cuddled up on the chair, but she didn’t want to think about them making out during the movie.

“You want to explain?” Lydia asked. 

“It’s nothing,” Erica answered and bit into her apple again. 

“By nothing you mean Stiles.” 

“They can all hear you in there, you know,” Erica said. 

“The werewolves, maybe, but Stiles is just as human as I am.” 

“Well, maybe I don’t want any of them knowing my business. Or you, actually. I don’t know how you’ll interfere.”

Lydia raised her hands in surrender. “I don’t want to interfere. I just want to listen. That’s what friends are for, right?” She cocked her head to the side and gave Erica an innocent smile.

“I just—I’m perfectly okay with the situation as it is now, with Stiles and I just being friends. It’s great, really. But I still…” Erica’s voice trailed off. “It helps if I’m doing something active, something distracting, if I don’t have to just sit next to him and think about it. I’ve been doing a really good job of not dwelling lately—up until now at least.”

“Which is why you wanted to play Truth or Dare,” Lydia said. It was clear she felt like an idiot, and Erica relished this for a second because Lydia so rarely ever felt like an idiot.

Erica nodded.

“Well then, we’re playing Truth or Dare.”

“But the movie…I just need a few minutes, then I’ll go back in and I’ll be great. Very convincing, too. I promise.”

“We’re playing Truth or Dare,” Lydia said decisively.

Erica tried to argue, but Lydia was already walking away. Erica followed her back to the living room. 

She tried her best to look as casual as possible. “Just getting a snack. Geez,” she said, in response to the stares from the rest of the pack. 

Meanwhile, Lydia pressed pause on 13 Going on 30 and declared that it was time to play Truth or Dare. Isaac and Scott both put up an argument. They had never seen the movie and wanted to see how it ended. 

“We saw them dance to Thriller, that’s the only important scene anyway,” Lydia said, and without further ado, removed the DVD from the player. 

There was a bit more dissension, but in less than five minutes, everyone was arranged in a circle on the ground, except for Derek who had said that it was not appropriate for him to play and was sitting in a corner reading a book off of one of Scott’s bookshelves. Lydia had not been dismayed; rather, she was confident that they would wear down Derek eventually.

“We’ll start with Jackson,” Lydia announced.

“Seriously, Lydia?” 

“Yes, Jackson. Set a good example.” She threw a judgmental look in Derek’s direction, but he didn’t bother to look up from his book. “Now, truth or dare?”

He sighed. “Dare, I guess.”

“Ooh, do we get to collaborate on this?” Stiles asked.

Jackson eyed Stiles suspiciously.

Lydia surveyed the situation. “No, actually, I don’t think so. Normally people could whisper together and brainstorm, but with this group, there would be too much overhearing. We’ll have to do this in an orderly manner. You dare or ask a question of the person on your right. And then we’ll scramble our seating order later to give us more variety.”

Erica looked to her right. Stiles. Crap. She planned on keeping her questions and dares innocuous, of course, but her mind was already filling with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t. 

“I’ve never seen someone think so hard about Truth or Dare,” Jackson remarked. 

“I wouldn’t get sassy when I’m the one giving you dares, Jackson.” 

“Hey, you love me, it can’t be anything that bad.”

“Just you wait.” She stroked her chin. “I dare you to…okay, this is good…tell Scott how much you care about him.”

“Lydia!” he practically shrieked.

Scott was saying that really wasn’t necessary. Erica couldn’t keep from laughing. Soon Isaac and Boyd started giggling too. Stiles looked absolutely gleeful. 

“We might as well use this as an opportunity for personal growth,” Lydia said. 

“You don’t care about personal growth,” Jackson muttered. “You just want to torture me.”

“What’s that, Jackson?” she said severely. 

“Nothing,” he answered through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it, okay? Uh, so, McCall…”

“You really don’t,” Scott started to say, but Lydia snapped, “It’s a dare, Scott.”

Jackson continued: “Well, McCall, I mean, I always knew there was something weird about you. And I was right. You remember that. Um, well. But like I said back then, I never—I didn’t hate you, exactly. And I don’t hate you now. And I don’t hate you less than I did then.” He turned to Lydia. “Satisfied?”

“Not yet.” She smirked. 

“Fine. McCall, I…I care about you.”

Jackson looked downright defeated after forcing himself to say those words, while Scott looked genuinely touched. Erica glanced at Stiles and was happy to see he was just as amused by these events as she was. They both continued looking at each other—hoping it would keep them from laughing hysterically instead of making them want to laugh more—and Erica was surprised, like she had been for days, just how natural, how easy these moments felt. 

In them, it didn’t matter much that she was still bitter about rejection.

Mocking Jackson with their eyes, expressing in just a look their thoughts on whatever ridiculous pack nonsense was happening—that was how things were supposed to be.

Truth or Dare continued in a mostly boring fashion. Erica had the sense that everyone was being cautious, which was a little odd. They shouldn’t have to be so cautious around each other…though, she guessed her whole little incident with Stiles proved the opposite of that. 

Isaac, who was on her left, asked her, “Truth or dare?”

Erica didn’t even have to think about it. “Dare.” Her answer was always dare.

Isaac thought for a moment. “I dare you to…dance with Derek.” 

“I’m not playing,” Derek said dryly from behind his book.

“I’m not daring you, I’m daring Erica!” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said and flipped a page loudly.

“You both have to practice anyway for prom,” Isaac argued.

“Come on, Derek, do it!” Scott said, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” Boyd added.

“I only promised Erica one slow dance, that’s it,” Derek said. His voice was not as strong as it was a few seconds ago. Erica knew it was because he could tell the group wouldn’t letting up.

Erica stood up and sauntered over to Derek who was very resolutely staring at his book. She knocked it out of his hands, and he growled just a little. It was a warning for her to back off. Erica knew that he would give in, though. He still was worried enough about Erica’s feelings that he didn’t want to distress her; plus, he had to feel a bit guilty about her storming off earlier.

She grabbed him by the hands, pulled him off the chair, and dragged him closer to the circle. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Derek said under his breath.

Erica ignored him and said, over her shoulder, “This requires music.”

All of a sudden, “Ice Ice Baby” was playing. 

Erica turned towards the group. Stiles looked guiltily at his iPod and said, “Should I be embarrassed about owning this song?”

Erica laughed, then looked back at Derek. “So how do you want to play this, Hale? Awkward middle school-era slow dancing is probably your best bet if you want me touching you as little as possible, though there are hotter options available.”

She tried not to think about her own experience at middle school dances which included zero boys dancing with her. Mostly, she had stood by walls and tried to keep her staring at Stiles discreet.

Derek said adamantly, “I do not want to play at all.”

“Please, Derek.” Erica batted her eyelashes and pouted. She had already started swaying to the music and tugging at his arms. 

He sighed but put his hands on her waist. “This is ridiculous.” To the group at large, he asked, “How long do we have to do this?” 

“Thirty seconds should suffice,” said Lydia, who had started the timer on her phone.

Erica put her hands on Derek’s shoulders, and he didn’t look absolutely murderous. Then she yanked him closer and started dancing against him. He was suddenly immobile, though his face had contorted to express very severe displeasure. She was a little bit worried that she was somehow scarring him for life and stepped back—even as the others were hooting and hollering. Stiles had even yelled, “Shake it!”

She took to dancing around him instead, leaving adequate space between them. While she embarrassed herself with the most ridiculous dance moves that she would never, ever showcase in a non-pack setting—she was pretty sure she was drawing from the Macerena, the Cotton-Eyed Joe, and Zumba classes—Derek stood there, stony, arms crossed. When she did the moonwalk past him, though, Derek couldn’t resist cracking a smile.

“Time’s up!” Lydia declared.

The group applauded, and Derek sulkily returned to his chair in the corner.

“I think we’re much better dance partners,” Isaac said.

“Agreed,” Erica said as she sat back down between Isaac and Stiles. “Interesting song choice, Stiles.”

“I’m known for making things interesting. By the way, the ‘Shake it’ was directed at Derek, not you.”

“Sure it was, Stiles.”

“No, really, he needed the encouragement. Didn’t you, big guy?”

Derek already had his nose in another book, but even if they couldn’t see him, they all knew how terrifying his expression had to be as he said, “If you ever call me big guy again, I’m gonna gnaw off your limbs one-by-one.”

“Don’t worry,” Erica said. She slid her hand over Stiles’s hand and smirked. “I’ll protect you.”

It took her a second to realize what she’d done.

She gulped and drew her hand back. Stiles just kept smiling at her as if nothing had happened. It was all okay. The world wasn’t over. She hadn’t had a melt-down. She didn’t go into a fit over rejection or suppressed longing or too much physical contact.  
It was okay.

Feeling encouraged, she asked Stiles, “Truth or dare?”

Derek had lowered his book at this point, and everyone was looking at them intently. They all saw this as something with the potential to blow up in their faces, Erica guessed that. But she was confident it would be okay. She wasn’t going to give him anything tricky, and if something would’ve exploded the situation, it would’ve been her hand on top of his, she was sure of that.

“Truth,” he answered.

“Okay, your favorite Scott and Derek fighting memory?”

Lydia snickered. Derek lowered his book completely. “Really, Erica? Really?”

“I’m thinking we should include you in every question or dare until you play for real.”

Derek was muttering to himself as he picked his book back up again. 

“Good question, Erica. I’m going to go with that epic battle last year on whether or not Derek should get cable for the apartment. I especially liked Derek declaring that he would never, ever actually spend money on getting that trash in his home…and then going to the pack meeting the next day and seeing a big screen TV and the best cable package.” 

Everyone laughed, except Scott who was blushing and Derek who was still hiding behind his book.

“Just a reminder to everyone. If you’re attributing all our great channels to Scott, you have to keep in mind how persuasive I was at getting them to sit down and talk it over,” Erica replied.

“Hey, how persuasive we were at getting them to talk it over. I had to do some convincing with Scott, too.”

“The easier feat,” Erica answered. “No offense, Scott.”

“I take it as a compliment,” Scott said with a smile.

“Not fair! Why don’t we just call it teamwork and forget this whole who-had-the-harder-job thing?” 

She looked at Stiles’s face. Still the same face that sent her heart racing. She thought about what he was saying, how it was true. They were teammates. Not boyfriend and girlfriend, which is what she wanted, but they were teammates. And that was something.

“Sure, let’s call it teamwork.”

The game continued, with Derek eventually giving in and joining. Once it became clear that Erica and Stiles were fine, the tension had lessened considerably. In fact, Erica was surprised just how perfectly it went. She was so in her element—surrounded by the pack, laughing at each other, doing silly dares, revealing little truths, being friends with Stiles—that her heart ached at his closeness far fewer times than usual. 

\--

Everyone besides Stiles was asleep.

Jackson and Lydia had ended up staying. It had clearly been their plan all along, since Jackson had brought a blow-up mattress for them. Melissa had come in around 11 p.m. and told them that she wasn’t going to have them curled up on a mattress together, that was just a little too much for her. Jackson had given up the blow-up mattress in an attempt to show that he could be chivalrous, and Lydia had not objected at all. She may have been tempted to do so on feminist principles, but she was also disgusted by the idea of sleeping on the floor. Lydia looked like a princess as she slept, while Jackson was tossing and turning on one of the couches. 

Scott, Isaac, and Boyd were all sound asleep in their sleeping bags in the corner. 

Of course, Stiles had the misfortune of his sleeping bag being right next to Erica’s. 

She looked beautiful when she was asleep, though he wasn’t sure why this surprised him. She looked beautiful all the time. Her face was completely free of makeup, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was more covered up actually than on an average day, in silky pink pajama pants and a silk, button-up shirt. 

He wished he could just sleep.

Instead, he grabbed a book from one of Scott’s shelves, took it out to the porch, and tried to read.

Stiles was worried when he heard the front door opening, but thankfully it was just Scott. 

“Stiles, I had no idea where you were. You scared me, man,” Scott said, as he sat down in the rocking chair next to Stiles.

“Sorry. Couldn’t sleep,” Stiles answered. “Derek’s were-snoring was getting to me.” 

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Stiles put down his book. “Maybe. Not really. I don’t know.”

“It’s Erica?”

“Stop being so perceptive. You aren’t supposed to be this perceptive, Scott!” 

“You’re my best friend. Come on. Talk.”

He sighed. “I just…I shouldn’t feel miserable. Everything is solved. The whole Erica situation is solved. Everything is good. I should be happy.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I’m not.”

“Because?”

“Because I…” Stiles sighed heavily again. “Because you know why.”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Stiles glared.

“It helps. To talk things out,” Scott said.

“Because it doesn’t change that we aren’t together. That I told her no.”

He thought back to Truth or Dare, when she’d been dancing with, and then around, Derek. He had tried to appreciate how funny it was and that she was willing to not appear sexy for a few moments and just be goofy. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to dance with her. Really dance with her, close. How much he really wanted her close, period. He had managed to fake some enthusiasm through the dare and through the rest of the evening, but it had been tricky. 

“If you want to be with her, be with her.”

“It’s not that simple, Scott.” 

Scott didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he said, “Can I be really honest with you for a second?”

Stiles had a feeling he didn’t want to hear it, but he nodded.

“It really is that simple, Stiles. Nobody is making it complicated but you. You’re making excuses.”

“Excuse me, I have very legitimate reasons-”

“To not want to get hurt? Everybody does, Stiles. That’s how relationships work. You take a risk.”

“But it’s not just worrying about her dumping me. It’s about her-”

“Getting hurt, I know, I know. But guess what? You don’t have to be a werewolf to get hurt. You don’t have to be dating a werewolf to risk losing her. You can date the most ordinary girl, the safest girl, and you can still lose her. You know that, Stiles. You’re making excuses.”

“I…I’m not. I’m trying to be reasonable.” 

“If everybody tried to be reasonable, nobody would ever date anybody ever. It’s always a risk. And you can let this risk pass you by, sure. But I think you’re going to find that with the next girl you really like, it’s going to feel just as risky. Even if she isn’t a werewolf.” Scott frowned. “I know I’m sounding harsh, but you know that ‘You regret the things you don’t do, not the things you do’ thing? Like, I don’t know if that’s always true or not. But it sounds pretty spot-on when it comes to this. You’re afraid of things going wrong. That’s not a special, supernatural circumstance. That’s just life.” 

Stiles felt like he had been punched in the gut because he didn’t know how to argue with any of that. Could Scott be right? Could every reason that Stiles had to say “No” really just be an excuse?

“Just, you know, think it over. Don’t stay out here too long, alright?” Scott said awkwardly before standing up and heading back inside. 

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, staring out into the street and mulling over Scott’s words. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Scott was right. Here it was, the first time someone who he liked returned his feelings, and he was sabotaging it, wasn’t he? He was sabotaging it because he was scared.

He hated feeling like Scott was right.

When Stiles headed back inside, a bleary-eyed, messy-haired Erica was in the entryway. Practically half asleep, she yawned and muttered something about the bathroom. He grinned and told her she would show her where it was. Her eyes were closed, but she gave him the most sincere smile. He steered her up the stairs and towards the bathroom to the left.

“Do you think you’ll be able to find your way back to the living room?” he said.

She was leaning some of her body weight on Stiles and nodded sleepily. Then she half-heartedly raised her hand in what Stiles thought was supposed to be a salute. “Got it, sir.”

He laughed lightly as she made her way into the bathroom and closed the door.

By the time Stiles got to the bottom of the stairs, he knew he was going to risk it.


	7. Alternate Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, you've got to admit it, man. This is good stuff. Like, grade A romantic stuff.”
> 
> “We'll see,” Scott said skeptically. “I think it would be much easier if you, I don't know, just told her you liked her. Like a normal person.”
> 
> “Since when has that been any fun?”

Stiles suspected his life was turning into a cheesy romantic comedy, but he didn't care. He had a plan, and it involved prom and the confession of feelings and a really romantic slow dance—and kissing, loads of kissing, if everything went successfully.

“Why don't you just, you know, ask her to prom?” Scott asked, sprawled out on Stiles's bed.

Stiles was at his desk, reviewing the plan written out on his laptop. “She's already going with Derek. It's too late. And that's too boring.”

“You need to ask her out excitingly?”

He spun his computer chair towards Scott. “Yes. Have a problem with that?”

“You're just making it so complicated,” Scott said.

“Well, I have to. I'm Batman.”

“You're what?”

“Batman! I don't know why, but Erica actually thinks I'm interesting! I have to do this how—how—”

“How Batman would do it? I don't think this is what Batman would do.”

Stiles sighed. “No, but you get the point.”

“Explain it to me again,” Scott said.

“Okay, so we're at prom. Dancing, dancing, fun times, woo! As per request, the song 'She-Wolf' by Shakira is going to come on, she's going to flip because it's her song and be dancing, and I'm going to go over and say something smooth like, 'You really are perfect just the way you are,' and then I'm going to ask her if I can talk to her, and then we're going to go to the pool and I'm going to say something about, 'Remember how you dragged me here once?' and the music will be loud, so we'll still be hearing the music and hopefully a slow song will be playing, and I'll tell her how scared I was of her, when we first met, and that—that she still scares me. Terrifies me. But for completely different reasons. And back then, I never could've known....but I know now and—and, well, you don't need to hear the whole speech, that's private. But I'll tell her I'm sorry and that I'm ready to dive into this, really, and I'll do anything to show her. And then I'll dive into the pool-”

“Okay, this is the part where you lose me.”

“She's not going to believe me at first, Scott. She's going to tell me I'm full of it or act like I'm trying to trick her. So if I dive in the pool, that shows--”

“What exactly?”

“I don't know, that I'll embarrass myself.” Stiles threw his hands in the air. “And okay, it seems like something a guy would do in a movie!”

“But in a movie that would be spontaneous, not planned out in a Word document.”

“Whatever. It's going to work, okay? And I'll get out of the pool, soaking wet, and she'll laugh because she won't be able to help it and I'll ask her to dance with me and we'll dance and then, finally, all the making out in the world.”

“Touching ending.”

“Come on, you've got to admit it, man. This is good stuff. Like, grade A romantic stuff.”

“We'll see,” Scott said skeptically. “I think it would be much easier if you, I don't know, just told her you liked her. Like a normal person.”

“Since when has that been any fun?”

Stiles didn't admit to Scott that most of the ideas came from Jackson and Lydia because he didn't want Scott to know how often he'd been asking them for help. Lydia thought the secluded setting of the pool would amp up the romance just the right amount, and both Lydia and Jackson thought it had just the right touch of drama and repentance to impress Erica.

Of course, the speech he had ready—the speech that kept playing in his head and threatening to spill out of his mouth every time he saw Erica—was all him.

–-

Erica and Derek were early. The whole pack was meeting for prom pictures at the park. Erica was pretty sure Derek's insistence on promptness was a desire to get things over with as soon as possible.

She clicked her heels together as they sat on the hood of the Camaro.“You haven't told me I looked hot yet.”

“Ew,” Derek replied.

She laughed. “I can admit that you look like a stud, Derek, but if you can't do the same for me—”

Derek glanced at Erica. Her dress was simple—black, ruched, strapless, super short—and let the attention stay on her long, tanned legs, her blonde hair at its most voluminous, and her dark red lips. “You look Erica-y.”

“I'm going to die from being overwhelmed by compliments tonight.”

“Hey, you're going to have a whole high school of boys drooling over you. You don't need me on that list.”

“I know.” Erica sighed.

“You don't need him on that list either.”

“Need who?”

“You're telling me you weren't thinking that only one high school boy matters?”

“Nope, not one bit. We're friends, just friends, and I'm perfectly satisfied with that, thank you very much.”

“Speaking of just friends--”

Stiles's Jeep pulled into the parking lot. He took the space next to the Camaro and jumped out. No date. Erica knew he hadn't asked anyone, but she was half-expecting him to find some girl at the last minute because that would fit the torturous patterns of her life. She sighed with relief as he came over alone.

That relief vanished when she was hit by how hot he looked in a suit.

“Loving the boutineer,” Stiles said, flicking the white daisy pinned to Derek's jacket. Derek bared his teeth at Stiles. “Down boy. You really need this guy leash-trained before you take him out in public, Erica.”

“I think it looks very handsome on him,” Erica answered. “So where is everyone?”

“Boyd and Isaac are both on their way, and Jackson and Lydia are probably arguing now about whether to show up on-time or fashionably late.”

“And Scott?” Derek asked.

“Uh, gonna meet us there.”

“What? He has to be in the pictures!” Erica said.

“I know, I tried to tell him, but he can't borrow his mom's car until she gets back from work. It's very complicated, so yeah, we'll just see him when we get there.”

Erica could tell he was lying, and after that, it was pretty obvious to her why Scott would blow off their prom get-together: Allison. She wasn't sure how on earth Scott planned on hiding Allison as his date all night. She figured that could serve as some entertainment if things got really boring, though she didn't particularly want to deal with the aftermath of Derek stumbling upon a making out Scott and Allison.

A few minutes later, Boyd and Isaac both showed up with dates, girls that Erica only vaguely knew. Both girls blatantly checked out Derek as the group small-talked, and Erica overheard the one whisper to the other, judgmental but smelling aroused, “How old do you think he is?”

“Fifty,” Erica said loudly. “I only date men in their fifties. Forties is kind of iffy. They're still a bit scattered when it comes to life goals, but a man at fifty really knows what he wants. Very hot.”

Derek groaned and stared at the grass, the girls both blushed, and Isaac and Boyd both glared at her. Stiles was the only one who appreciated it, which he showed through barking laughter; that was satisfaction enough for Erica.

Just then, Jackson and Lydia pulled up in the Porsche, both looking gorgeous and ready for the prom king and queen crowns. Erica felt a twinge of guilt over how much she wanted to beat Lydia into the ground.

“Ready to get this party started?” Lydia said, smiling. “Erica, you look hot.”

“Same to you.”

Jackson looked around at the other guys. “You all look...respectable.”

“Feeling the love,” Stiles muttered to himself.

Lydia looked at Stiles. “Where's your boutineer?”

“No girl, no boutineer.”

“Good thing we brought you one then.” She was smirking as she grabbed a plastic box from the passenger's seat.

Erica was mortified to see a daisy matching Derek's boutineer and her corsage.

Stiles felt his stomach sink. He hadn't considered that Jackson and Lydia wouldn't only take his desperation as a plea for help with planning, but an invitation for them to improvise “help” throughout the night.

“He can't wear that,” Erica said.

“Come on, we couldn't pick something that emphasized his lonely state,” Lydia replied. “And we couldn't exactly match him to anyone else. You and Derek are the only pair that's strictly platonic, so  
I thought you wouldn't mind. Especially since you both are friends again. Do you mind?”

“I mean—it's not—it's just kind of weird, don't you think?” Erica turned to Stiles. “I mean, do you want to—”

“I don't need a flower. Really.”

“We spent money on it,” Jackson said. He took the box from Lydia's hands and shoved it into Stiles's. “Just wear the damn thing.”

“You drive a Porsche. If I waste a few of your dollars, you'll live.”

“Yeah, but will I let you live? That's the question.”

The rest of the group was staring at them, especially Boyd and Isaac's dates. Stiles wanted prom to be about sweeping Erica off her feet, not causing some scene and getting in a big fight with Jackson and Lydia, so, grumbling, he took out the boutineer and pinned it to his jacket.

“Happy?”

Lydia grinned. “Extremely.”  
Just then another car pulled up—Jackson's family photographer. Jackson and Lydia had been insistent that what they needed for prom was professional pictures, not some horrible digital camera shots from everyone's parents.

To the surprise of none of the pack, Lydia controlled the photo shoot more than the photographer did. She arranged them just-so on the grass overlooking a little stream. Derek was standing on Erica's right side, but Lydia made Stilse stand on her left.

“I swear,” Erica whispered into Stiles's ear in the middle of a round of group photos, “I didn't put her up to any of this. Really.”

“Oh—no, I wouldn't have thought—”

“I'm here with Derek, not you, and I get that. Even if she doesn't. And it's fine with me. Great, even,” she added.

Stiles was still facing forward, smiling, but he wanted to stop. He wanted to tell her that he was a moron before and he wanted to be with her. But he had a plan, and that plan meant waiting.

“Erica, it's fine.” She nodded at him, but still looked slightly frantic. “No, really,” he said, as his hand seemed to act on its own, out of instinct, grabbing hers and squeezing it. “We're great.”

Erica yanked her hand away so fast that it flew into Derek's abdomen. She grimaced when Derek and one of the judgmental dates stared at her, then gave an apologetic smile to Stiles, before scooting a bit closer to Derek's side.

Stiles wasn't sure how long he could do this waiting thing.

–-

“Derek, you are being unforgivably lame,” Erica said as they sat at a table off to the side at prom. Stiles, Jackson, Lydia, Boyd, Isaac, and Boyd and Isaac's dates were all in a big circle in the middle of the dance floor.

“I told you, you go. I'm fine here.”

“But I don't want to leave you alone.”

Derek narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Erica squirmed. Derek knew that normally she wouldn't have cared and would've been on that dance floor no matter what he was doing. But seeing Stiles just reminded her of the prom that she had envisioned herself having so many times. The prom with them dancing close, with them being more than friends. She needed Derek as a buffer, as a distraction, something.

“I can be courteous sometimes,” Erica offered helplessly.

“Would you just go and dance with your friends?”

All of a sudden, “She-Wolf” by Shakira started playing. Derek rolled his eyes, but Erica was bouncing up and down.

“Derek, the she-wolf wants to come out!”

“As long as the literal she-wolf stays in.”

“Come on. This is my song!”

“Then go,” he said, smirking.

Erica spotted the group amongst the other upperclassmen. Stiles wasn't there at the moment. For the sake of her sanity, she decided he had to be in the bathroom or something, not off dancing with some other girl. Though, she reminded herself, he had every right to...and she was very happy they were friends.

“For one song,” she said over her shoulder before darting off. Derek yelled, “Really, I don't care!” after her.

She burst right into the middle of the group and promptly grabbed Lydia right out of Jackson's arms. Lydia had no objection, and Jackson only looked miffed for about a second until he started whistling in appreciation.

“I'm going to punch you in the face,” Erica shouted as she danced up against Lydia.

“Not if I do it first,” Lydia said.

They were both belting out the chorus and howling when Stiles made his approach.

Stiles had been worried that Erica hadn't been dancing, but he had also known “She-Wolf” would lure her right onto the floor. Everything was going as planned—even though Erica barely looked at him as he walked her way. Her eyes were closed tight as she howled and shimmied.

Lydia and Stiles, however, made eye contact. Lydia winked at Stiles and moved away from Erica,  
who continued dancing and swinging her hair like nothing had happened.

Stiles took a deep breath and thought about how in ten or fifteen minutes the plan will have been executed and Erica would know how he felt. He leaned closer to her, though she still wasn't acknowledging him. “Erica,” he said in what was his attempt at a sexy voice, “I just wanted to let you know...I really do think you're perfect just how you are.”

Of course, his sentence had to coincide with a loud howl along with the song that he recognized as Scott's. He looked behind him and saw Scott, who was wearing dark Aviator sunglasses in hopes that would somehow prevent Derek from recognizing him with Allison, laughing and dancing with Allison in the corner. He rolled his eyes and turned back to Erica, whose eyes were finally opened.

“What, Stiles? I can't hear you, it's so loud in here!”

“Um, can we go talk?”

“Talk?”

“You—you look really beautiful tonight.”

Erica gulped. “Stiles—I—I'm dancing.”

“I'll be quick, I promise.”

“I just finally managed to get on the dance floor.”

“The dancing will be here when you get back,” Lydia said from behind her.

Erica spun around and glared, and Lydia raised her arms in mock surrender. Erica then turned back to Stiles who was looking at her with this desperate face. She wasn't sure why she was so scared. It was Stiles. Harmless Stiles. Her friend.

But she really couldn't deal with some talk about feelings—not tonight. She knew how something like that would end. It was bound to be some big I want you but I can't be with you thing, and she might cry, and nobody liked a crying prom queen—well, except for bitter prom queen wannabees. But she didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction.

“You promise it'll be short?”

“Promise.”

He reached out his hand. “It's really crowded,” he said, by way of explanation. But she didn't grab it. Instead she walked beside him as they tried to weave their way through the gym. Stiles tried not to take this as a sign. Even if they were together, Erica probably wouldn't let him lead her anywhere anyway out of principle.

When they were out in the quiet hallway, he said, “I requested 'She-Wolf.' I know you like it.”

She smiled. “It's my autobiography. How could I not? So, uh, what's up?”

“Can we, uh, walk a little?”

“Stiles,” she said warningly. “Short. Promises.”

“No, no, it will be. Really.”

They continued down the hallway. The big speech was playing in Stiles's head, and it was making it hard for him to do small talk. He told himself to focus and turned to her. “So how's Derek as a prom date?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

“No, I'm serious. Are you having fun?”

All of a sudden Erica was sure she knew what was going on. “You feel guilty, don't you?”

“What? Erica, no.”

“I don't need you feeling bad for me, Stiles! I don't need your pity compliments. And I don't need you checking up on me because I must be having a miserable time since I'm not here with you. I'm fine. Anyway, I'm not even the one here alone, so if you want to feel bad for someone—I don't know, feel bad for you. Because Derek may not be a great date but I care about him and he cares about me and I know he's not going to pull any of this pity crap with me at any point tonight.”

Stiles was feeling his breath getting short. He had this so well-planned. Or at least he thought he had. How could it be falling apart already?

“Erica, please. Just...hear me out. It's not like that.”

They were almost at the pool doors.

“What's it like then?”

Stiles ran over to the pool doors. “It's like...”

“What are you doing?”

“Let's just sit by the pool and talk, alright?” He yanked at the doors.

“The pool?” Erica crossed her arms over her chest.

Locked. The doors were locked. Jackson said that the swim coach always left the pool unlocked after practice so Jackson could come in and do extra laps at night and that the pool would be unlocked for sure. Apparently not.

The plan was falling apart. He gripped the handles to the pool doors and reminded himself that the pool wasn't really that relevant. Scott was right. What was relevant was what he had to say. That big speech. That confession of feelings. That he wanted to be with her.

Stiles let go of the door handles and turned back to Erica, whose lips were pursed in impatience.

“Can you just go with the assumption for a second that I might not have bad intentions and let me start over?”

“You can give that a shot, I guess.”

“Erica, you—I--do you remember that time you dragged me here? From the principal's office?”

Erica huffed. “Great, Stiles, so you don't feel bad for me. You just want to dredge up every time I was a horrible human being to you.”

“No, that's not—”

“Because yes, I remember that, Stiles. I remember that it would've been my fault if the kanima had killed you then or if you would've drowned trying to save Derek because I brought you there. And guess what? I remember when I knocked you out and put you in a dumpster too. And if you didn't accept the apologies I gave you for those ages ago, well, then, okay, but I don't know what you want me to do about it. And if that's why you didn't want to be with me, you should've just been a freaking man and told me.”

She wasn't crying, but the pained look on her face reminded him of that time in his room, when he had first ruined everything. He knew he had to just get the words out—“I want to be with you.” All he had to do was scream them before she had the chance to leave.

But whenever she was upset, he felt quiet and cautious, and the last thing he wanted to do was yell. He walked towards her slowly, hands out just a little, as if asking permission to touch her. She wasn't looking at him. Her head was held high, but her jaw was quivering just a little.

“Erica,” Stiles said softly.

At the same time, there was a shout of “Erica!” from down the hall. Derek was coming.

“I'm coming!” she shouted back. Still not looking at Stiles, she darted away from him and towards Derek.

“How did you know to come look for me?” Erica said as she pulled Derek back into the gym.

“Saw that you had disappeared and Stiles wasn't anywhere in sight. Assumed the worst.”

“I love your cynicism sometimes.” She heard Stiles's footsteps outside. There was no way he was going to just leave her alone—unless....“Now dance with me. Please.” Before he could refuse, she threw her arms around his neck and rested against him. To her surprise, he sighed and started swaying, his hands resting on her lower back.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered against his chest.

“You're going to owe me later,” he grumbled.

She heard Stiles gulp a few seconds later, and she wasn't sure if he had really gulped that intensely or if her werewolf hearing was just attuned to him and magnifying it. Either way, she didn't want to look at him. Erica turned her head towards the other side of the gym and stared at the disco ball until she couldn't pick up his scent anymore.

As the sappy slow song played, she finally had a chance to gather her thoughts. Her mind went back to the word “cynicism.” She had used it to describe Derek, but now that she was thinking about it, she had been cynical from the start Stiles showing up. She had been so ready to call him out, to find him trying to break her heart, and she wasn't sure why. Stiles could be an idiot, but she knew he had good intentions. He wouldn't have been trying to hurt her, and he especially wouldn't guilt her for things that far in the past.

Maybe she really had assumed too much too soon.

A part of her wanted to find Stiles and give him that chance to say what he wanted to say, but it still felt safer with Derek. So she stayed there, swaying.

–-

Jackson was pouring alcohol into cups of punch for Danny and Lydia as they collectively gawked at the sight of Derek Hale slow dancing. Stiles tried to walk over calmly, but as soon as he reached them, he snapped, “Your precious pool was closed, Jackson.”

“What?”

“It was locked!”

“Did you tell her somewhere else?” he asked.

“I tried.” Stiles was digging his nails into the back of his head. “And failed. Horribly.”

“What happened?” Lydia asked.

“She wouldn't let me finish. Or start. I don't know. She thought I was being a jerk. Which I guess isn't such an outrageous assumption. I don't know what to do now.”

“It's not prom or nothing,” Lydia reminded him. “This would've been nice, but you have....well, you have all the time in the world. Honestly.”

“But what if?” Stiles looked over his shoulder at dancing Derek and Erica and sighed.

Lydia let out the most un-Lydia-like bark of a laugh Stiles had ever heard. “Are you kidding me? Stiles, nothing is happening there.”

“You never know. Proms are romantic! You said it yourself, that magic can happen! Just not if Stiles tries it, apparently. And now I'm talking in the third person. Okay, I'm freaking out here. Someone calm me down, please.” Stiles started surveying the area. “I need to talk to Scott. Have you guys seen him?”

“He went off somewhere with Allison,” Danny said.

“Great, great,” Stiles muttered to himself.

All of a sudden, Jackson grabbed Stiles by the shoulders. “Stilinski, get a grip, okay? We're going to help you. Just trust us, alright?”

Before Stiles could ask how or really register how strange it was that Jackson was his friend and offering help without Stiles' begging or Lydia's prompting, the principal, Dr. Tennant, was shuffling on stage, and the DJ cut the music. Next to her was the student council president holding sashes and a tiara.

“Where's the king's crown?” the principal said to the student in a whisper that was picked up by the mic.

“I thought you were grabbing it,” the student whispered back.

There was some snickering as Dr. Tennant grabbed the sashes and tiara from the student council president, who disappeared offstage to grab the king's crown.

“Well, we'll just start with the prom queen then.” Dr. Tennant tapped the mic. “Hello, Beacon Hills! So....let's get to it. Can we have our nominees for Prom Queen come up? Lydia Martin, Erica Reyes, and Kaitlin Harbor?”

Lydia grinned at Jackson, gave Stiles a comforting shoulder squeeze, then made her way up to the stage. The other nominee, Kaitlin, had been closest to the stage and got there first.

Erica was the last to join the group. When she got up there, she first looked at the crowd. It never stopped being surreal—that these people who had once made her miserable looked at her now like she was cool, like she was beautiful and wanted.. In that moment, the effect was pretty weak, though, because she didn't feel particularly excited.

Apparently, that was obvious. Lydia, who was holding her hand, leaned over and said, “Smile, hon.”

“This was a very close race. With just a few more votes than the runner-up, your prom queen is....Erica Reyes!”

Erica gasped. She had wanted to win. She had fantasized about it. And yes, she had thought she had a decent chance. But Lydia still seemed like the more likely candidate for prom queen.

Lydia didn't even sound upset when she said, “Step forward, Erica.”

For a second, Erica felt all the emotional garbage clear away. She stepped forward and the principal put on the Prom Queen sash and the cheap tiara. Erica stepped over to the microphone and looked out on the other students, a lot of whom were smiling up at her.

She was hit again with the determination to have a good night, no matter what she felt about Stiles.

She saw Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson together, all clapping and hollering for her. Scott and Allison too, though separate from the pack. Derek was still standing where she had left him. He wasn't cheering or anything, but he was smiling very genuinely—still a big thing coming from him. Lydia was applauding behind her. These people loved her. This family.

Plus, people thought she was cool and hot. That was an added bonus.

Her life was good.

She felt herself getting emotional. “Thank you. Thank you guys,” she said into the mic before stepping back because there was no way she was going to let anyone catch her getting all teary-eyed over being prom queen. She always made fun of pageant queens who pulled crap like that.

After she took a step backward and the principal came forward again, she finally let herself look at Stiles. He was still clapping for her, and he was smiling too, big and broad. She looked down and smiled to herself as the other nominees left the stage.

Erica was still sneaking glances at Stiles when the prom king nominees came up. There was Jackson, Danny, Scott, and Greenberg, the latter of which everyone was pretty sure was a joke nomination.

Dr. Tennant looked off to the side and saw that the student council president was still not back yet with the king's crown.

“Uh, well, we um—the crown's forthcoming, but in the meantime, we're going to announce who your prom king is, Beacon Hills. This year's prom king is....Jackson Whittemore!”

Everyone started clapping, and Lydia, who had left the stage, was cheering loudly from somewhere Erica couldn't spot. Jackson was beaming with self-satisfaction as the principal put the prom king sash on him.

“Your crown is...uh, on its way.”

Jackson stepped forward towards the mic. “I actually think I have a great way of killing some time if you wouldn't mind, Dr. Tennant.” He grinned at her, charming as always, and Erica rolled her eyes. He had teachers eating out of his hand—even that creepy Mr. Harris.

“What are you thinking, Jackson?” Dr. Tennant said.

“I'd like to invite Stiles Stilinski to the stage.”

“What?” said the principal in unison without about ten other people, including Danny, Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Erica.

“It's customary for the prom king to say a few words,” Dr. Tennant clarified. “Not the prom king's friend.”

“I'm not customary,” Jackson replied. “And anyway, fine, Stiles is prom king then”

“You can't do that! This is a democratic process!” said Dr. Tennant.

“I think you're forgetting that it's the prom king, not the prom president. This is a monarchy, and I'm giving up the throne and naming a successor. That's allowed.”

Though there was some logic to what Jackson was saying, Erica knew that the real message underneath those words was, I'm Jackson Whittemore, I'm filthy rich, and I'm going to do whatever I want. That type of confidence was hard to refute, as evidenced by Dr. Tennant finally saying, “Well, Mr. Stilinski?”

Boyd shoved Stiles, who was frozen and speechless. Boyd shoved him again, and the principal said, “Mr. Stilinski,” and Erica was staring at him. He hurried forward, the speech running through his head. He'd have to make a few adjustments, like getting rid of all the references to werewolfhood. He clambered on stage, almost tripping up the stairs but managing to stop himself before face-planting.

There were still giggles in the audience, but they didn't mean much to him. He was zoned in on Erica. Beautiful Erica in her tiara, baffled and fiddling with her Prom Queen sash. He looked at Jackson questioningly, who mouthed, “Now, you idiot.” Stiles stumbled over to the microphone and looked briefly at the crowd before angling himself towards Erica.

“Uh, hey everyone. What I have to say isn't mostly for you. But....um, anyway. Erica. Sorry to do this in front of all these people, but what I was trying to tell you earlier was, I'm an idiot.”

“We know that, Stilinski!” yelled a voice in the crowd that sounded suspiciously like Mr. Harris.

“What are you doing, Stiles?” Erica asked.

“I—I used to be terrified of you, Erica. Terrified. You were intense and you were angry and hot. Really hot. And you intimidated me and you seemed dangerous.” He slipped the mic out of the stand and held it in his hand as he walked over to her. “And everything has changed since then. I know you now. But you still scare me. Even though we're best friends. Even though I know your heart. It's like you're this dragon, right? And like, we're friends and you give me rides places but in the back of my mind I'm always like, this is a dragon who is a million times more powerful than I am and you could just breathe fire on me and then I'm done.”

“Stiles-”

“Am I embarrassing you? I'll stop. I'm sorry. We can talk later. I just-”

Erica glanced at their classmates, then looked back at Stiles. “Just get to the point, please.”

“The point...the point is, I'm scared of you now because I like you so much and want to be with you so much and that's scary. It's scary because it can actually happen, because we can be together, and I'm scared of screwing it up and I'm scared of losing you. And I'll admit that to everyone here! I'm scared. But I'm not scared enough to stop thinking about you. You are the funniest, most passionate, most vibrant person I've ever met. And I know everyone knows you're hot and you're cool, and they voted you for prom queen because they like you, but they really are missing out, because that's just the tip of the iceberg. Because you take all that away and there's still—you're going to hate me for saying it—this sweet girl...this sweet, warm, brave adventurous girl that you've always been, even when morons like me didn't realize it. So everything I've been doing, saying we shouldn't be together, that was me being scared and making excuses, and I'm sorry. But I want to put that aside. And I want to be with you—if you'll let me.”

Erica was still staring at him. Stiles couldn't read her expression, and he was starting to think about how stupid it was to do this in front of a whole bunch of people just because Jackson had called him on stage.

“Erica?” was all he could say before she grabbed him by the back of his head so vigorously that people could accurately describe what was happening as them smashing their faces together—their lips together.

Kissing. I'm kissing, Stiles thought, with a bit of shock. For a moment, he wondered if he was doing it alright, but that passed away quickly, as he started returning her kiss with equal force. Soon every thought was just Erica, Erica, Erica, her lips, her hair, her smell, Erica.

Erica was the one to eventually pull away, though she had no idea just how long she had been going at it. She grinned and laughed as he returned her gaze with this content, lovesick expression that looked just a tad sleepy.

She had been imagining this moment for years—before Stiles even knew her as anything other than that dorky girl who sat behind him in class—and now it had happened. All she wanted was to do it again.

Jackson came up behind Stiles and placed the crown on his head. “If you could keep your tongues to yourselves for two seconds, it's the prom king and prom queen dance.”

Erica took Stiles by the hand and led him down the stairs. He almost tripped again, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't even care if he had. The crowd cleared, giving them space on the middle of the dance floor.

“You...you accepted that a lot more quickly than I expected,” Stiles said, as they started dancing.

Erica shrugged. “I've been waiting to kiss you for a very long time, and I wasn't going to punish myself by waiting any longer.” She added, “Plus, I could tell you weren't lying. That you meant what you said. You know, the whole werewolf thing.”

“You forgive me then?”

“Why don't we save the whole forgiving thing for when you're actually being a jerk? And not, you know, a normal, scared human?”

“Really?”

Erica nodded and smiled. “Now would you shut up for once? I'm trying to enjoy my dance as prom queen, thank you very much.”

“A silent prom king at your service.”

She laughed.

“What?” Stiles said.

“Just you...as prom king. It's funny.”

“Oh, really?”

“It just feels a bit like being dropped into an alternate reality.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Ha ha.”

But he couldn't argue with her. The whole night felt a bit like an alternate reality. Jackson gave up his prom king crown for him, for crying out loud! And then there was the whole Actually Being With the Girl He Liked thing. He felt a little thrill at the idea of this world was going to become his regular world, the one he lived in day to day.

Then they heard across the dance floor Derek saying, “Scott,” severely. Erica pointed them out—an angry Derek and Allison and Scott at a dimly lit table in a corner, entangled in each other.

“Now we're back to normal,” Erica said.

“Ignore it for one more song?”

“One more night please,” Erica said, and they kept on dancing.


	8. Plus Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We weren't confident in you, you moron. We were confident in Erica's limitless tolerance for your stupidity,” Jackson said.

A week had passed since prom, and people were still talking about Stiles and Erica. Mostly, people debated if Erica was too hot for Stiles. The consensus seemed to be that Stiles was attractive if you looked hard enough, but nobody had because of how annoying and dorky he usually was .

Sometimes girls in class tried cooing to Erica about how romantic Stiles was, which made Erica want to growl at them territorially. Instead, she settled on the response of, “Oh, is he? I hadn't noticed. I'm just with him for his Jeep.” Not being able to tell if she was sarcastic usually flustered them enough to shut them up. 

Meanwhile, guys kept trying to ask Stiles, with varying levels of discretion, about sex with Erica. He totally had to have gotten some because it was prom and that speech or whatever, seemed to be what the whole male population of Beacon Hills was thinking. Scott had to stop Stiles from trying to beat up a wrestler in the locker room who asked Stiles what Erica looked like in nothing but a crown. 

“We go to a school of idiots,” Erica said, squeezing Stiles's arm as he sat down with his lunch.

Stiles hadn't mentioned any of the day's events to Erica. He sighed. “What did you hear?”

Erica shrugged. “I hear everything....or, I mean, most things in your general area.” She blushed. “And next time you want someone beat up, you just text me, babe, and I'll handle it.”

“Because that's how beating-someone-up-over-your-girlfriend's-honor works,” Stiles said. 

“Do I have to lecture you about how you defending my honor is not, like, a thing that needs to happen?”

Stiles sighed again—heavily. “No. So. How are those college applications going?”

Erica bit her lip. “Um. Well. About that.”

“Erica,” he said softly.

“I don't want to think about college. Not when things are so good right now.”

“But if you don't go to college, you won't get to put the life-sized Stiles Stilinski cut-out I got you in your dorm room! You'll be missing out on a great opportunity!”

Erica dropped her fork. “What?”

“I got two made. One for you and one for Scott. They're very attractive,” he said, completely straight-faced. 

“Did someone body swap you with Jackson? Because I'm not so sure how I feel about that.”

He laughed and put his hand over hers. “I may have made the cut-out up. But now that I'm thinking about it, it's a pretty good idea.”

She laughed too. “My roommate would think I'm a grade A creep.”

“Or she'd be really, really jealous. I mean, not only is her roommate a werewolf, but she's dating a male supermodel basically. That's a lot to live up to for this poor girl.”

Erica laughed again and gave him a quick, contented peck on the lips. “That—that right there,” she said, and she was beaming. 

“What?”

“That's the Batman moment, none of that defending my honor garbage.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“This is the first conversation where I've ever thought about college and smiled,” Erica explained. “Thanks.” 

“Does that mean you'll work on the applications tonight?”

“Don't push it,” she replied.

But he smiled back anyway. When Jackson and Lydia approached, Stiles and Erica were holding hands and looking at each other with these mushy, romantic expressions. 

“Ugh,” both Jackson and Lydia said in unison, though only Jackson was serious about it.

They sat down, and Erica and Stiles turned to them. Lydia was holding a stack of photographs.

“I figured I would have everyone look at the printed copies first so we can weed out all the pictures with our worst angles before putting them up on Facebook,” Lydia explained, “since, you know, the website is going to be shut down by the amount of creeper traffic this album is going to get.” 

She shoved the stack of pictures towards them and Erica began flipping through them, with Stiles looking at them over her shoulder.

“We really do look like we were dates all along,” Stiles said with a smile. 

“Jackson and I are geniuses,” Lydia said. 

“You two were really that confident in me that it would work out?” Stiles asked as Erica looked closer at one of the group shots.

“We weren't confident in you, you moron. We were confident in Erica's limitless tolerance for your stupidity,” Jackson said.

Erica wasn't sure whether to laugh or reply that she wasn't a push-over. Instead, she settled for looking through more of the pictures and leaving Stiles staring at Jackson, aghast. A few seconds later, Boyd and Isaac appeared with Wendy's bags. 

“Ooh! Pictures!” Isaac said with a squeal. He stood over Erica's shoulder.

“Isaac. Focus,” Boyd snapped. “Guys, we have a problem.”

Erica and Stiles exchanged knowing looks. The problem, as always, was Scott and Derek. Of course, Derek had found out Scott and Allison were at the prom together, and of course, he had not been happy about it. They had a screaming match in the hallway. Scott had left with Allison, and knowing Erica was preoccupied with Stiles, Derek had also gone back to his apartment. Scott hadn't come to anything pack-related all week, and Derek had been refusing to talk about Scott. Stiles had been attempting to get Scott to talk to him about it, but Scott had been skipping classes and generally sulking all over the place, giving Stiles absolutely zero details.

“It got worse?” Stiles asked.

“We ran into Allison at Wendy's and Isaac asked, not very discreetly, about what happened with her and Scott. She said she couldn't deal with it, not being trusted by his pack, being put through the wringer, dealing with forbidden love and all that crap again, and she called off everything with Scott,” Boyd explained.

Stiles sighed. “No wonder the dude's a mess.”

Erica squeezed Stiles's shoulder. “I think this sounds like our kind of job.”

And though he was aching for his best friend, he couldn't help but feel a bit thrilled about that. The team—the Erica and Stiles team, one of the greatest teams known in all of Beacon Hills history, the team that kept the pack together, thank you very much—was back in action. But this time they were new and improved. They were the team plus kissing. 

–

Stiles and Erica had managed the miracle of all miracles: getting Scott and Derek in the same room together. They were in Derek's apartment. Derek and Erica were sitting on the couch, and Stiles and Scott were on the chairs alongside the opposite wall. Both Derek and Scott were staring at each other so intensely that Erica and Stiles both felt as if they were intruding—though, without their intrusion, this was sure to end in a claws-out werewolf brawl. 

“Now,” Stiles clapped his hands together, “let's talk about feelings.”

Scott and Derek groaned simultaneously.

“If you don't, we'll talk about your feelings for you,” Stiles threatened. “Even the embarrassing ones. I'll even get into your dreams, Scott, so help me, if you don't start talking. You know the one.”

Scott sighed. 

“And I would be happy to tell Scott about what he means to you, Derek. If that's the way you guys want this to go down,” Erica said. 

Derek sighed too.

Stiles and Erica smiled triumphantly. So maybe they were doing this the mean way, but it was going to work. That was the important thing.

Derek and Scott started talking. Well, yelling mostly. About how stupid the other was. And how selfish. 

Stiles and Erica didn't have to do much after that. Erica guarded the door so they wouldn't leave and would both yell themselves out, and Stiles sat, tensely, watching the pair. Finally, they got tired of yelling and started talking like normal human beings. 

That didn't mean, of course, that they weren't talking in circles—repeating the same points over and over again until both were bored of hearing themselves speak.

“I think, what we're getting out of this, is that you both want the other's support. You care about each other,” Erica said, still leaning against Derek's door. “That support just might look a little bit differently than you imagined...that is, if you want to be in each other's lives at all. Or would you rather not be in each other's lives?”

Derek and Scott both stared at each other, frowning, and Erica smirked. They loved each other, at the end of the day. They just needed the reminder. 

“So, if you want to be in each other's lives, you have to figure out what that looks like. To support the other person. And the best way to figure that out is to, you know, talk about it,” Erica continued.

“She has a point,” Scott murmured.

Derek grumbled something before saying, “Sure, let's talk.”

Stiles looked at Erica over his shoulder. “I think we can leave these two unsupervised for a bit.”

“If I hear either of you go for this door, you're dealing with my wrath,” Erica said as she and Stiles headed into the kitchen for a snack. Also, some kissing against the fridge. 

“We're so good,” Stiles said, in between the kisses he was placing on her neck. 

“Yeah, but not exactly the most ethical, with our threats and everything.”

“But we're effective.” His hands were on her waist. “Maybe you should be a counselor. Apply to some psych programs?”

“I'll bite you if you talk about college applications one more time today.” 

“Eh, it's not like you can turn me,” he said with a shrug. Erica was still backed up against the fridge, her hands in Stiles's back pockets. He started playing with her hair. “You know, I wish this could go on our applications though. Like, we must have really great mediation skills if we can stop two really passionate werewolves from killing each other about eighty separate times.” 

“Or,” Erica said simply, “magical things just happen when we team up.”

He smiled. “That works too. Now can we team up my lips with yours again or...?”

She rolled her eyes. “You're the worst.”

“But my lips, your lips, that's the dream team!”

And the funny thing was, “dream” was a really appropriate word. Erica had been dreaming about kissing Stiles for so long, even before he really knew her. He was everything she had dreamed about in a guy. He was so smart and funny and sarcastic. He was sweet underneath it all. Not to mention, he was gorgeous in that understated way of people who are good-looking but don't get much attention for it because they're too low on the social scale. He had been the perfect fantasy. Now it was reality. Now it was so casual—making out in the kitchen of her alpha's apartment. 

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles said, noticing the far-off look in her eyes.

She laughed. “Just how lucky they are to have us...and how lucky you are to have me.” And she pulled him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Sorry it took me forever to write :)


End file.
